#no matter how much i type it in that tag never stays
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Note
Hi,
First off, thank you for posting my post. Organized Anon. I never thought people would care what I had to write, just had to get that off my chest and I love a good list lol. I guess, I have more so here is part 2. Lol
Today will be the Wild West west for Lukolas. I see people sending in post that are all over the place.
I myself am not a lukola -per se. I love Nic and Luke. I would love if they dated. But I like to remain neutral. I find it is the best for me. For me.
I am seeing posts saying Nic and Luke are beefing bc he did not post for her bday and she has not liked her post. My advice is to not engage with people who think Nic is dating Jake. It is a waste of time. You could have ET standing next to you saying aliens are real and they still will not believe you. It doesn’t matter about posts talking about the meaning of sweet one, they will not listen. The only thing to prove a jakola wrong is to let them use their brain. Trust me, if you ask question that requires thinking, in a respectful way, they will not know how to respond or what to do.
again, saying Nic is with JD bc she went to his premiere is childish. Saying she is mad with Luke and she has been showing JD off since Luke went to Rome is childish. Saying there is beef between them is childish. yes, I am even calling so called Lukolas on this site out who are agreeing with things.
there is nothing we can say to prove or show. But again, ask yourself those key questions.. if she is dating Jake and they have been out an about all this time, why not just post or tag that is who she was with in her photo. Nic has a brain and smart. We know they went to the WT movie together and we know they spend time together so why not post or tag him- and she might later do this- but why be public with JD on certain days and private with him on other days- makes no sense. No logical sense. People already think they date, so why hide him on the bday post. -Because his is most likely isnt dating him. This is just from rational thinking.
again, think rationally. Why would two adults- who play a beloved fan favorite of Polin be beefing and put in on SM for the world to think so. It’s bad for the product. Look at the Amazon show, culpa tuya. The leads are apparently beefing and yea people are talking but Polin is a different type of love story. Shonda would not let dirty laundry out so stop with the beefing theory. People sound like children. And these are grown adult women. Stop thinking that people are vindictive and want to manipulate others. Go seek therapy and figure out why toxicity is a driving force in your life. If Nic was beefing, why is Luke all over her end of year dump. His photo is on the back of her phone. At the least, they are besties.
now the million dollar question- why did he post for Claudia Bday and not Nic. There are only two possible reasons. A. JD is her man and he did not want to take away from JD on her special day. OR B. Luke is her man or her and Luke are getting close and decided to make it private - no attention. I believe the latter based on rational clues. Extra extra eyes were on them this year. Commenting on her SAG post was loud but not posting is louder. Personal stays private.
Could I be wrong yes- lol. But I’ll leave with this. If Nic is dating JD, you will have people saying she trolled the fandom. And if you are being honest, it can be seen that way. Posting and not posting jd. Jd trolling as well, saying things like people want me to marry Luke , doing that audiobook. It’s just too much. And she will get push back and fans will leave. I don’t care how nice people think JD is, he is not worth losing fans for. But let’s not think on this. We will cross that bridge, when or a big big big big if we need too. thanks!!!
.
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
Non canon to Friendship Sim btw
But there’s Monk!
(Context? Maybe later when I’m less emotional)
#renu’s artwork#no matter how much i type it in that tag never stays#maybe i need to come up with a new art tag#anyway expect to just see friendship sim stuff for a bit#non canon friendship sim stuff#rw friendship sim au#friendship sim au#fss!monk#fss!inv#fss!spearmaster#fss!artificer
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
sighs and collapses and disintegrates into the wind
#Seven’s Public Diary#vent post#cw vent post#ah yes. another restless nights sleep in a cold room bc i was too upset and sick to eat enough yesterday and my nightmares won’t let up and#my heater isn’t enough to warm the room when it’s this fucking cold outside. but it’s fine bc i don’t think i deserve to be warmer anyway#i should get water but i’ve been stuck laying here for an hour wondering if im racist and feeling like i should just. leave. or smthn. idk#i need a caregiver so there’s someone here to stop me from doomscrolling tumblr and reddit discourse for two hours before bed. lol#but ig no matter how careful i try to be there’ll always be part of me thats. unconsciously? racist? bc im white so its just part of me#idk im not educated enough to talk about it so i guess the real lesson to learn here is to keep my fucking mouth shut. which i can do!#i don’t. know how to apologize correctly. bc no one wants to hear me piss and moan abt my white guilt. if that’s what it even is#im too stupid to understand what to do or say and the more i type the worse it sounds so im just. sorry. i apologize for anything i’ve said#or done. that wasn’t right or was insensitive or thoughtless or uneducated or. whatever else it is i rlly don’t know#i didn’t mean to use AAVE. i really didn’t know. so i’ll go edit the tag where i used it but. that’s only one example. how many more am i#unaware of? how often do i put my foot in my mouth and not know it? im sorry. i’ll try to do better#but there’s so much to be mindful of that i can’t keep track of it all and it’s overwhelming me so i think i should just. be quiet.#‘always a fanfic writer at the scene of the crime’ i. didn’t know there was a connection between racism and fanfic. now im worried#was that just an easy jab to make bc it’s cringe or is it actually problematic. why does it seem like theres smthn wrong w everything i do#anyways. i have to stop thinking abt it or im gonna anxiety vomit. i could go lay on the couch#it in the only warm room of the house but it’s covered in dog hair and i hate the smell from the stupid fucking propane heater#it gives me a headache and makes me paranoid. why did he install gas heat when he could’ve gone with a heat pump. all he did was make#everything harder on everybody. so now we have dangerous gas heat in the winter and shitty mold-filled window ac units in the summer#when he could’ve installed a heat pump/ac unit combo thingy and we would’ve been good to go. why is he like this.#YOURE A GODDAMN ELECTRICIAN. HAVE BEEN YOUR WHOLE LIFE. YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU WANT. SO ACT LIKE IT.#im staying in bed. the rest of the house reeks of burnt plastic bc SOMEONE decided to take FOUR sedatives and drink a couple beers before#trying to use the stove to cook dinner :))) so now i have to figure out how to clean that up. i take back everything i said about winter#being my favorite season. this shit fucking sucks. there’s so much more to stress over and it’s all so much more expensive and exhausting#i never want another dog or cat ever again after these two pass. im not the person i once was and i cannot care for them like i used to.#i can’t even care for myself. couldn’t if i Wanted to right now bc everything is frozen solid. can’t shower. can’t do any laundry.#just get to sit here filthy cold and miserable in the one clean-ish sweater i have left for ? days until temps get back above freezing#anyways thats enough bitching abt my first world problems. time to shut up and be grateful for what i Do have bc it could be a Lot worse
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
I think there’s something to be said about how even in stories so far removed from our society (fantasy, supernatural, sci-fi, etc), prejudice exists bc there is no world that we can image that has everyone be equal, things are just always inherently disproportionate
#thinking about this and how#there will always be something seen as less then no matter the progression of the world#there’s just always that separation and distrust#it so fascinating to me actually - like even when you try to make an unprejudiced world there always hints and undertones of it#you can never really escape it ig#im always especially intrigued with it in supernatural settings#bc it really is the story of pitting minorities against each other to be able to better control them#like you can have them work together or have to much of a kinship bc then they will overtake the system in place#crafting the narrative and finding things to resent each other#all supernatural creatures have some type of weakness - a downside - and thats used against them to strain any interspecies (??) bond#if this take is completely wrong and awful dont tell me i will stay in my little bubble#blab tag
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
IF YOU NEEDED ME !
simon riley/reader – 7.1k words sale of a lifetime mini series !
tags: smut, childhood best friend!simon, virginity for sale trope, unrealized feelings, soft!simon, protective!simon, virgin!reader, afab!reader, no prns for reader
cw: loss of virginity, cunnilingus, wet & messy, fingering, creampie, mid-sex love confession, a little arguing but nothing crazy tbh, petnames (love, lovie, sweetheart)
; he remembers the way you would look at him when you were children, all smiles and bright eyes. he never thought he was deserving of such happiness. but now, with you shyly covering your bare breasts, in his bed, he feels like he’s the only man deserving of you.
or.
he may not have been the first man you picked to give your first time to. but looking back, you realized he was the only right choice in the end.
Meeting some unknown, shady guy out on the street outside of a seedy bar wasn’t the smartest decision you’ve ever made. Nor was it how you actually intended to spend your Friday evening. But it was the only option you had at the moment, so you swallowed your nerves and forced yourself to stay put at the spot the guy had chosen despite the fact that being out on the street made you feel x10 more nervous and vulnerable.
You could hear the loud music and chatter inside the bar every time the door opened to let someone in or out. There was a chill in the air that had you contemplating actually going inside and just telling the guy to meet you in there – you were about to give the bastard your damn virginity, the least he could be was accommodating to your temperature struggles. Plus, you could really use a drink.
A car, expensive by the looks of it, pulling up to the curb had you pausing in that train of thought. You recognized him from his profile picture when he stepped out of the vehicle – Lucas, you recall being his name. Whether that was really his name or not didn’t matter; all that mattered was he brought what he promised.
“You have the money?” you asked when he approached you, giving him a tight-lipped smile as a greeting.
“Yeah, got it in the car. All cash, I hope that’s alright,” he grinned, a sight that made a shiver go down your spine. His tone didn’t match the smile, all transactional and dull despite the glimmer in his eyes.
He wasn’t necessarily unattractive but he certainly wasn’t your type. There was a look in his eyes, one that made your skin crawl because you felt like you were nothing but a piece of raw meat in front of a starving, salivating predator.
“We should get going,” he said, hurrying to open the backseat of his car for you.
You paused, “Aren’t we going to go inside or something?”
He looked confused, grip on the door tightening for a moment before he bursted out laughing. When he saw the shocked look on your face he sobered up, “Sorry, sorry, that was rude of me. Sweetheart, this isn’t a date. I’m just here to get what I paid for.”
“Oh…” you swallowed around the lump in your throat at the condescending tone, humiliation making your cheeks burn, “Right.”
Tears stung the back of your eyes and you quickly averted your gaze so he wouldn’t see how much that stung. Of course, you knew it wasn’t a date. This was a transaction. But you at least thought you’d get to know the guy who was about to take your virginity. You should have known better.
A man who was paying for your virginity wasn’t bound to be someone you could trust to feel comfortable around. You quietly sigh, resigning yourself to this all for the sake of some fucking money.
You settle into the car, heart jumping into your throat when the door slams. It feels as if you’ve just sealed your fate and you can’t deny that you’re scared.
But there’s an envelope next to you that you can see stuffed with bills and you clench your fists, trying to calm your racing heart by closing your eyes and breathing.
You just hope this decision doesn’t cost you your life or something. You’d hate to imagine what that would do to a certain someone.
Suddenly, the car jostles. Your eyes snap open and you see Lucas is jacked up against the side of the car, a very familiar form caging him in. His scarred hands grip the man’s shirt in tight fists. You can’t hear what they’re saying but you can see Lucas is chattering frantically, gesturing wildly with his hands in an attempt to quell the angry man in the skull balaclava.
You curse to yourself, a different kind of terror shocking through your system. Lucas is thrown to the side and you wince at how hard he hits the pavement before the car door is jerked open.
You can’t even say anything before a strong, rough hand wraps around your arm, yanking you out. You stumble once you’re on your feet, falling right into his chest.
You try to pull away but his arm clamps down around you.
Lucas is cursing and screaming his head off, words you don’t even bother to try and decipher because you’re too preoccupied with the masked figure that made his sudden appearance. Nerves make your knees shake and from the look of pure rage in his eyes, you know you’re in deep shit.
Lucas opens the car door and slams it before driving off, tires squealing against the pavement before he vanishes. Along with that wad of cash that was going to be yours in just a short time.
Suddenly you’re angry, shoving your hands against his chest to get him away from you.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Riley?!” you shriek, shooting him the fiercest glare you could muster.
“I should be askin’ you that,” he sneers, “The hell were you doin’ with that prick?”
“I–”
“Don’t answer that,” he snaps, cutting you off swiftly, “I know what you were doin’. If you needed money that badly you should have told me.”
“It’s not your concern, Simon!” you cry, resisting the urge to petulantly stomp your foot.
You’re so pissed.
Simon Riley and you went way back, childhood friends. The two of you had always been in each other's lives. Simon especially was always there when you needed him, a beacon of safety and protection. Your best friend and someone you loved to the ends of the Earth.
But right now, you’re so angry with him that you can’t seem to think straight.
How dare he show up now, when you’re about to do the most humiliating act of your entire life. How could he show his stupid, masked face here when you didn’t even ask for his help in the first place for a reason.
“You are always my concern,” he shoots back, scarred knuckles turning white from how hard he clenches his fists, “I have always taken care of you. You should have come to me for help instead of puttin’ yourself in danger like this. You didn’t know that guy, what the fuck were you thinking?”
Anger makes your skin hot, sweat beading on your forehead, blocking out the chill that once made goosebumps rise. You feel ashamed that you were caught in this situation – that the man you’ve known your entire life knew you were about to sleep with some random asshole for a fat wad of cash. You don’t like that he’s made you feel ashamed and confronted you with it.
“Just fuck off, Simon!” you shriek, the only thing you can think of before turning on your heel and stalking away from him.
You don’t glance over your shoulder to check if he’s following because you know he most likely is – from a safe distance to make sure you make it inside your apartment alright but far enough that you can’t get mad at him for it. Your jaw is clenched so tightly that you feel a headache radiating down your neck.
By the time you reach your apartment, the anger has simmered and all you’re left with is a festering shame that makes tears fill your eyes. You wrap your arms around yourself and quickly shuffle yourself inside, not bothering to check if Simon is out there or not. All you want is to get a hot shower and crawl into bed for the rest of the weekend.
You do just that, letting the burning hot water scald your skin until you can’t feel any emotions except exhaustion. And then, you crawl into bed and let sleep overtake you without a second thought.
When you wake up, it’s clear that it’s late into the afternoon. The sun is high in the sky and shining painfully bright through the crack in your curtains. You groan and roll over, slapping the bed to find your phone.
You grab the device and unlock it, taking a moment to scroll through your notifications. There’s some angry messages from the guy from last night – cursing you out for setting him up to be jumped. It makes you roll your eyes before a particular notification catches your eye.
It’s from your bank – alerting you of a deposit.
You sit up straight in your bed, brows furrowed before your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see your bank statement. It’s more than you needed and you know exactly who was responsible.
You jump out of bed, not even bothering to dress out of your pajamas before you’re shoving some slides onto your feet and storming out of your apartment.
You’re so heated that you can’t even remember the walk to Simon’s place, your mind racing a million miles a second. You storm up to the door and slam your fist on it, the hard wood making your hand sting from how hard you pound.
The radiating tingle of pain is quickly forgotten when the door swings open.
Simon stands there, looking down at you expectantly. He leans against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He wears an army-issued t-shirt that’s a bit too tight. The sleeves stretch taunt around his biceps and you can make out the swell of his pecs. It’s not very often that you get to see his tattooed arms, littered with scars since he tends to wear long sleeves most of the time.
He doesn’t look at all surprised to see you, clearly having expected you. The apathetic look in his eyes just solidifies that you were right all along.
“What the hell is your problem?!” you cry without so much as a greeting.
He sighs, broad shoulders rising and falling with it before he opens the door wide and motions you inside. You duck underneath his outstretched arm, turning to watch as he closes the door and locks it.
He wanders into the kitchen and you realize you can smell bacon. He doesn’t seem at all surprised by your outburst nor does he seem interested in acknowledging your question.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, only solidifying how unperturbed he is by your display of anger.
“No!” you snap, “I want to know why you did that, Simon!”
He sighs again, much louder but doesn’t respond. You stand in the doorway to his kitchen, watching him plate his lunch – which is actually just breakfast food. He places the dish on the table and pauses, looking up at you.
“You needed the money, I had it,” he offered with a shrug of his shoulders.
“I was handling it on my own,” you say, “I-It was my problem to solve.”
“By sellin’ yourself to some prick?” he snarls, the anger he was masking coming out in a flurry.
“I wasn’t selling myself–” you refute but he slams his palms down on the table. His cutlery clatters with the action and you jump.
“I read that post you made,” he hisses, teeth bared, “There’s no fuckin’ reason you should be selling your virginity for some cash when I was right here the whole time!”
Your cheeks burn when he brings up your virginity, crossing your arms over your chest protectively, “I-It’s mine to sell if I want to! I needed that money!”
“And now you have it,” he says with finality.
He takes a seat and you stand there, fuming. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding together as your mind races to find a rebuttal. He begins to eat, taking large, fast bites that just shows how he’s been conditioned to eat quickly by the military.
“That’s not the point, Simon,” you huff, growing less angry and more frustrated by this conversation. You were just going around in circles.
“Then what is the point?” he snaps, snatching his empty plate and angrily tossing it in the sink. He turns to you again, a frown evident on his face, “You got the money you needed safely. That’s all that matters.”
“It’s too much money, Simon!” you cry, “I was selling something in exchange for it!”
“I care about you,” he says, “That doesn’t matter to me. What’s mine is yours, you know that.”
You silently glare at him, wishing that the heated stare would get through to him. He stands unbothered, staring blankly at you with his fists clenched by his sides.
You hang your head, sighing, “I-I can’t take your money, Simon, alright? I’m already in debt and I’m not going to be in debt to you of all people.”
“You feel like you owe me, is that it?” he asks.
You nod your head, heart rate spiking when he stalks towards you. You’re close enough to smell his body wash and aftershave, a painfully familiar scent that you adore. He stares down his nose at you, brown eyes lidded and lazy.
He reaches out suddenly, rough hand gripping your cheeks, smushing them together until your lips pucker, “Then give me a kiss as payment.”
“H-Huh?” you whimper dumbly, eyes wide in shock as his face grows closer and closer.
“It can be payment for a kiss, lovie,” he coos, syrupy sweet and soft, “Will that make up for it, then?”
The air in your lungs suddenly doesn’t feel like enough. This is a man that you’ve known almost your entire life so you’ve obviously thought about him in a romantic sense at some point. Hell, when you were a teenager you even had a crush on him. But he never once looked at you any other way than as a friend so you quickly got over it – or maybe that’s just what you told yourself. Because as you stand there, staring into his eyes, you realize that kissing him would feel like a dream come true.
You find yourself nodding despite the inner turmoil going on in your head. Simon huffs through his nose before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours.
There’s a shock of electricity that goes through you at the contact. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean into the kiss, letting him take over. He works his lips expertly against yours, eventually abandoning his hold on your face in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist. You gasp into the kiss when he suddenly yanks you closer, your body pressed close against his.
He’s warm and sturdy against you, a solid form of muscle that makes you feel safe and content – just as he always has. His hands are big and rough as they grip your hips, kneading the soft flesh there as he gets lost in kissing you.
“S-Si,” you find yourself muttering without realizing.
He hums in response, chuckling when you continue to mindlessly kiss him. He pulls back, one hand coming up to wrap lightly around your throat, thumbing at your jaw as your eyes slowly focus on him, “What is it, sweetheart? What do you need?”
“I-I don’t…” you swallow thickly around the forming lump in your throat, “I don’t know. I just…”
“Show me,” he breathes, softer than you’ve ever heard his voice.
The sweet, tender look in his big, brown eyes is what gives you the courage to grab his wrist, leading it just under the hem of your shirt so he can touch your bare stomach. You give him a shy glance from under your lashes, hoping he’ll get the hint that you want more.
You want him.
Simon, in all his experienced wisdom, understands immediately what it is you’re aching for. His hand travels up further, pausing at your ribs, just under the swell of your breast. Your heart hammers in your chest when your gaze meets his. His eyes are lidded, long lashes obscuring his pupils but still burning into you.
He stares deep into your eyes, waiting for any sign of hesitation as his fingers creep higher and higher. You suck in a breath when he cups your breast in his palm, squeezing lightly to feel their weight.
A large, calloused thumb creeps up, passing ever so softly over your nipple until the bud peaks and hardens under the attention. You sigh at the feeling, new shocks washing over you that you’ve never experienced before.
Sure, you played with yourself plenty – you had a healthy masturbation life, you’d say. But you’d always just been focused on reaching an orgasm, never on the build up. You imagine, however, it would never feel as good by yourself as it does with him.
He pinches your nipple between two fingers and you whine, lips parting as the sound escapes. Simon takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Your hands grab his shoulders, desperately clinging to his shirt as you lose yourself in the sloppy kiss.
Drool drips down your chin – it's messy and hot between the two of you. His hand switches to your other breast to give it the same attention as the other. You tremble in his arms, overcome by the insatiable throbbing between your thighs.
You shift on your feet, the fabric of your panties stick uncomfortably to your core. You’re so wet, wetter than you’ve ever been in your life. By the time he pulls back, there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips to his.
“You want more?” he asks, voice gravelly as he speaks, as if he’s drunk. You nod your head and he clicks his tongue, “You gotta tell me, sweetheart.”
“I-I want more, Si,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks burn as you admit it.
“Let’s go,” he hums, taking your hand in his as he leads you around the couch towards the hallway.
“Where?” you ask dumbly, hoping that making some kind of conversation would ease the nerves steadily building in your chest.
“The bedroom,” he responds, stroking his thumb over the top of your hand as if he can sense that you’re nervous, “Wouldn’t want to be stripped down in the middle of the living room, I imagine.”
“N-No,” you squeak, cheeks burning even hotter at those words.
You’re going to be naked. In front of another person for the first time. In front of him. Simon.
“There now, lovie,” he whispers as he shuts his bedroom door behind the both of you. He takes your waist in his hands, kneading the soft flesh there, “It’s alright.”
“I-I’m just–”
“Nervous,” he finishes for you, smiling softly when you nod, “I know. We can stop anytime you’d like.”
“I don’t want to,” you rush out, hands coming up to press against his firm chest, “Just…d-don’t be upset when I don’t know what I’m doing.”
The tender way he looks at you sets your heart pounding like a little rabbit. A ghost a smile appears on his lips, “I would never do somethin’ like that.”
“I-I know, I just…” you look down at your feet only for him to catch your chin in his fingers, pulling you to look up at him.
You swallow thickly around the lump in your throat, holding your breath as he descends down. His lips find yours all over again, as exhilarating and mind-melting as the first time.
Just the sweet, deep kiss he gives you has your nerves dissipating a bit – back to normal levels. You no longer feel the desire to flee, you just feel an intense longing and anticipation. You crave more from him.
As if sensing this, his fingers find the hem of your shirt. He slowly starts to pull it up, agonizingly slow. But you’re grateful for it, it gives you time to prepare before you’re bared completely to him. You lift your arms for him, a sign that you’re still okay with this.
He pulls it up over your head and lets the fabric drop to the floor. But he doesn’t look down, he continues looking in your eyes, softly pecking your lips as his hands cup your breasts once more.
When you sigh and lean into his touch, he finally lets himself break the eye contact. He sucks in a sharp breath when he sees how pretty your tits sit in his hands. He touches them softly, sweetly brushing over your nipples in admiration.
“Perfect tits, lovie,” he coos, chuckling when you whine in embarrassment.
His head descends, pink lips parting to take one of your nipples in his mouth. It’s hot but his tongue is soft when it circles and flicks at the bud. He sucks, popping off lewdly before switching to the other one.
The sensation makes you squeeze your thighs together, imaging what that would feel like around your clit. Your hole clenches around nothing, drooling messily into your panties. The fabric was so wet by now that it couldn’t soak it up anymore, leaving it to slick up your thighs instead.
Your core ached, a feeling only Simon would be able to soothe.
“Please, Si,” you finally break, whimpering pathetically.
He detaches from your breast, lips wet and swollen from the worship he had been giving your now sore nipples. His pupils were blown wide, black swallowing brown and you were sure that yours looked the same.
He stands to his full height, nudging you backwards until your knees hit the bed. They buckled at that, leaving you to fall back against the bed. Simon’s bedding was soft, the scent of detergent and his own body wash filling your senses. You relax at the familiar, comforting scent, sinking into the blankets with a bashful smile on your face.
To Simon, you’re an ethereal beauty. You take the air right out of his lungs with the way you look at him.
He remembers the way you would look at him when you were children, all smiles and bright eyes. He never thought he was deserving of such happiness. But now, with you shyly covering your bare breasts, in his bed, he feels like he’s the only man deserving of you.
He scooches you up the bed, crawling on after you until he’s on top of you. Though you’re still wearing your pants, you feel so vulnerable beneath his weight. He’s heavy and warm and he smells so good. You can’t focus on anything except for him – he’s all around you and it’s exhilarating.
Feeling bold, you reach up and tug at his shirt. He pulls it off with ease, revealing his toned, scarred upper body. You can’t help but trace over some of the ones you’re familiar with – there’s one from a time he fell out of a tree trying to rescue a cat that you had been crying about. He fell out of the tree on the way down, a jagged branch stabbing into his upper arm and slicing it open. There was another one from when you were teenagers, some other kids jumped him and he took a stab to his shoulder trying to protect you. You kiss that one and he softens, as if he’s remembering it too.
He’s always been there for you, an overwhelming presence that you simply couldn’t live without. The fact you’re here, in this bed, about to give him your virginity is something that you never would have expected.
And to think, you were planning to sell it off to some random loser.
“I’m glad you stopped me,” you find yourself whispering.
He looks confused for a second before he hums, nodding in understanding, “I am too.”
“I-I want it to be you, Si,” you whisper, the confession leaving you embarrassed. It’s true, all this time, you realize, he’s all you’ve ever really wanted. You had just buried it deep down so you no longer felt those sparks towards him.
“I’ll take care of you,” he whispers back, as if the two of you are sharing some secret little moment that no one else can hear about even though it’s just the two of you in this room.
“You always do,” you respond, the words making his dark eyes light up.
He kisses you deeply, moving his lips slowly against yours. When your hands come up to grip the back of his neck, he takes that as his cue to move down to your neck, then your collarbones, down the center of your chest between your breasts, the spot between your breasts, and finally your navel.
You lay back, head in his pillows with your hands on either side of your head. You watch him, breathing labored as you wait for his next move. He pauses in his path, looking up through his lashes at you before his fingers find the hem of your sweats. You swallow thickly, holding your breath when he slowly begins to pull the fabric down. You lift your hips to help him, pulling your legs free while being careful not to kick him by accident.
He keeps his gaze on you until you’re settled back down into the bed and the pants are forgotten on the floor to be collected later. Then, he looks down.
Even though you still have your panties on, you know that the white cotton is soaked through and hides absolutely nothing from his view.
You watch as he licks his lips, as if his mouth is suddenly bone dry. His hands are burning hot when he touches you again, sliding over your thighs to your hips. He leans down, pressing his lips against each of your thighs.
His thumb reaches down, stretches over your pubic bone to touch the sticky fabric. You nearly jump at the sensation – someone’s fingers other than your own touching you there for the first time. Simon’s fingers.
As if he can’t help himself anymore, he tugs the waistband of your panties and yanks them down your thighs. You squeal when you’re jostled under the force.
He holds the material up and you’re mortified to see just how wet they are. He runs his thumbs over the crotch and you whine, drawing his attention from them. He drops them to the floor and returns his hands back to you, gripping underneath your knees, so he can spread you all the way open.
Your hands fly to your face, covering your eyes in embarrassment at how exposed you are. He doesn’t seem to mind, pressing a kiss over the top of your hands before moving back down your body.
You peek through your fingers only to find him already staring at you with a sparkle in his eyes. He carefully spreads your slippery folds apart with his thumbs, the movement causing a wet, sticky sound to emanate from between your legs. The little bud of your clit is hard and twitching as it’s exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. When he’s sure you’re looking he leans down, pink tongue hanging out of his mouth. You stop breathing as you watch a fat glob of spit roll down the surface of the smooth muscle and splatter right on your clit.
“Si-!” your squeal of his name is cut off when your eyes roll back in his head as that sinful tongue slides right over your bud.
Your whole body twitches at that, hands falling away from your face so you can reach down and grab his hair. It doesn’t even seem like he notices your grip, focused on slurping up that sensitive nub into his hot mouth.
You choke out a moan, tilting your head back into the pillows as your back arches. It feels just as good as you thought it would when he was giving the same, lewd treatment to your nipples.
He continues to suck and lick your clit until your mind is completely blank and all you can think is him. Then, all at once it stops and he pulls back, letting your bud slip from the heavenly clutch of his lips.
“You ever have somethin’ inside you, lovie?” he asks, bringing up one of his fingers to swipe through the folds of your entrance, as if to show you what he intends.
You swallow to moisten your throat before nodding, “J-Just my fingers.”
“How many?” he asks, growing more confident in prodding at the tight little hole.
“T-Two,” you breathe, any embarrassment you felt long dissipated in the face of true pleasure.
“Alright, lovie,” he hums, “Just lay back, I’ll take good care of you, yeah?”
You nod and do as he says, turning utterly boneless against the blankets. The sweat already slicking your skin despite the fact you’ve only just begun makes the fabric stick to you.
He prods at your entrance for only a second longer before finally, he pushes his thick middle digit inside you. Your cunt is so wet and pliant that it hungrily swallows it up to the very last knuckle. You clench around it intentionally, getting used to the feeling of the foreign finger inside of you for the first time.
It feels so different compared to your own, thicker and rougher. The sensation is so strange but you can’t say you don’t like it – in fact, it feels amazing. You already want another, feeling like one just isn’t enough to give you that unknown feeling you’re chasing. It’s like you have an itch that needs to be scratched and only Simon can do it for you.
As if sensing this, ever the reliable one, he carefully introduces a second finger. The stretch is unfamiliar, a burn around your entrance following as he reaches the last knuckle on that one too. His middle and ring finger stuffed snuggly inside your gooey little cunt as you whine and squirm from the feeling.
Once you’ve adjusted, he slowly begins working them in and out of you. You slick up his fingers easily, streaks of creamy white coating his skin and making his mouth water. When he crooks his fingers up suddenly, prodding at that tender little spot inside of you, your entire body twitches and the most beautiful moan rips from your chest.
He can’t resist leaning down and trapping your pulsing little clit under the flat of his tongue. He doesn’t slurp it into his mouth like before, instead, he just licks over it, pressing it down with the muscle. Your eyes are rolled up and your mouth hangs open as you moan and moan, tugging mindlessly at his hair as he works you towards your orgasm.
It grows and grows, the unrelenting pleasure of his fingers fucking deeply into you and his tongue lapping sloppily at your clit like a mutt driving that knot in your belly to tighten. Drool spills out around his tongue, slipping down to meet his fingers where he easily fucks it into you – the added lubrication not needed but so very welcome with how much wetter and messier it makes you.
“S-Simon…” you pant, gasping to catch your breath as the pleasure makes it hard for you to even think.
He glances up at you through his lashes but doesn’t offer any other acknowledgement. There’s a knowing look in his eyes that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s going to wring this orgasm out of your little cunt whether you like it or not.
And fuck, do you love it.
The orgasms you brought yourself in the deep of the night, little hands stuffed down your panties as you played with your clit and stuffed yourself with your own fingers was nothing like what you were experiencing now. Simon’s thick fingers and hot tongue were torturing your little clit until your entire body started to lock up.
You looked at him desperately, unsure what was even going through your mind besides him and how fucking good you felt right now.
Just as you teetered on the edge of this orgasm, he suddenly changed up and swallowed your twitchy little clit into his mouth. He sucked, sending you flying over the edge with a shrill wail of his name. Your legs kicked and twitched, heels hitting him on the back as you trembled and shook through the orgasm that he eagerly fucked out of you onto his fingers.
He suckled your clit, swirling his tongue around it until it was too sensitive and you were tearily pushing him away. When he finally released you, slipping his fingers from your cunt, you were boneless and twitching on the bed. You didn’t even try to close your legs when he pulled away, giving him the perfect view to watch your cute little pussy clench and messily drool cum in the aftermath of your orgasm.
He popped his fingers in his mouth, eyes rolling and lashes fluttering at the taste of your cum tingling on his taste buds. As you came down, eyes closed and breathing heavy, he began pulling at his belt.
You could hear the metal clinking as he dropped it to the floor, peeking your heavy lids open to see him pull the button of his jeans open. As he slowly pulled them down, his underwear went with and suddenly you were more aware than ever.
His cock was something to behold. Thick and veiny, bobbing in the air where it hung – too heavy to actually stand upright. You’d seen dicks in porn before but none of them prepared you for Simon’s. Precum dribbled from the tip, creating a long, gooey string down towards the floor before it broke.
He wrapped a big hand around himself, giving a few good strokes as he reached down to cup his own heavy balls. The hair wasn’t wild or offensive, but neatly trimmed short.
“All good, lovie?” he asked, stepping out of the pool of his jeans and boxers so he could kneel on the bed again.
“All god-good!” you blushed as he laughed, leaning down over you to balance his weight on his elbows.
“You still want this?” he asks, hushed and sweet,
You glance between your bodies to see that intimidating cock, drooling messily over your skin. You realize, quickly, that you’ve never wanted anything more in your life.
When you voice such, he looks relieved, like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He sits back on his heels and spreads your legs, pushing your knees up to your chest.
“Hold them there,” he orders, which you follow immediately.
Your elbows circle around your knees, holding yourself open for him as he asked. He whistles low in appreciation when your cum-slicked cunt was spread and exposed for him to prod his cockhead against.
He swipes the tip up and down through your folds, humming appreciatively when your little hole tries to suck him in every time he grazes past it. He nudges your clit, the little bud still hard and sensitive from your orgasm but so eager for more. He couldn’t wait to grant your wish and make you cream on his cock.
You watch him with wide eyes as he starts to push into you. Your jaw drops as you feel that burning stretch, an ache settling between your legs as he continues to sink himself into you.
“F-Fuck, wait, Simon!” you squeal and he halts immediately.
He’s only reached just past the head of his cock but he reaches down to pet your clit. The pleasure shoots through you, making your toes curl and your walls relax around him. He keeps his eyes on your face for any sign that you want him to stop as he moves his hips again.
More and more of his cock sinks inside and his thumb keeps working little circles over your clit until his hips are flush with yours. Your voice breaks as you moan when you realize you’ve taken every single inch of him.
He’s heavy and throbbing inside of you and you clench around him intentionally, forcing a moan from his chest.
He leans down, arranging your knees over his shoulders, folding you up and pressing down on you. He’s heavy and it makes it hard to breathe but that makes it even better – the pleasure of being speared on that fat cock and being utterly helpless underneath this man is better than any fantasy you could have made for yourself.
“Fuck,” he snarls, rolling his hips back before rocking them forward again, heavy balls slapping against you as he does, “Can’t believe you were gonna give this little cunt away to some prick.”
“S-Si,” you whimper, biting your lip at the feeling of him slowly and carefully rocking his hips against yours, “‘M sorry, sh-shoulda been you all this time.”
“That’s fuckin’ right,” he hums, “No one else gets to love you but me, sweetheart.”
“O-Only you!” you agree, nails digging into his shoulders when he hits that spot just right.
He can feel you soaking his cock, drippy cum lathering him up to make every glide of his cock wetter than the last. He sits back up on his knees, adjusting his grip so he can pin your legs wide open, giving him the best view of your greedy cunt swallowing his length up.
He begins to fuck you in earnest, pulling out halfway before sliding home again - nothing like the little movements he gave you to prepare you. He was going to show you exactly why you should only think of giving him this precious pussy for the rest of your life. No one will ever be able to fuck you as good as he can, he’s going to learn your body like the back of your hand and you’re never going to be able to cum as hard as you can with him. You’ll never even want to use your own fingers again when he’s done with you.
You can’t do anything but lay there and take it, take the pleasure and take his cock. He hits so deep, prodding at your cervix in a way that aches but it only feels that much better when it’s mixed with mind-numbing pleasure.
Simon looms above you, panting and groaning as he fucks you like he was made to. He angles his hips just right, blunt nails biting into your thighs where he pins you open, neither of you caring if he happens to break skin while he does. You don’t even register the bite of pain underneath the way his cock prods you g-spot so perfectly.
Your own fingers would have been tired by now, no longer able to work that little spot like you need. Simon’s cock, however, is unrelenting. The pleasure builds and mounts uninterrupted, every stroke of his length sending you higher. His body moves fluidly, rolling his hips tirelessly so he can give you every ounce of pleasure your sweet little cunt needs.
You’re creaming around him, a frothy, milky ring forming around the base every time he sinks in and becoming visible when he pulls back. It’s filthy and messy and makes your cheeks burn but Simon seems to not mind in the slightest.
“So fuckin’ messy, love,” he coos, breathy and slurred, “Look at that, pretty cunt needed some cock, huh?”
“Y-Yours!” you manage to choke out.
“What’s that?” he asks, a crooked, teasing grin on his face.
“Y-Your cock! Only needed your cock, Simon,” you pant, reaching up to grope your own tits, pinching and rolling your nipples meanly. It hurts so good, making you clench around his cock. He moans at the sight, his pretty little virgin tormenting your own nipples.
“That’s right,” he hums, reaching a shaky hand down to thumb at your clit, “Keep pinchin’ those pretty tits, sweetheart. Don’t stop.”
You nod your head, unable to form a vocal response from the new sensation of your clit being played with while he fucks you. It feels so damn good that you could go drunk from it all. Everything in your brain is slow, thoughts of only him and how good you feel are all that’s there. Your entire world, right at this moment, revolves around Simon Riley.
He knows it too, a cocky grin on his face as he works you to your orgasm. You dangle, almost helplessly, staring unblinkingly at his handsome face as he works it out of you.
After what feels like minutes, but is probably only seconds, you cum. Hard.
Your head slams back against the pillows, back arching as you cunt clasps tight around him. You cry out in pure, unadulterated pleasure as he fucks you through it. His thumb keeps working your clit as it twitches and pulses under the digit, cumming nice and pretty for him just like he wanted. Just like you deserved.
You cream his cock messily, it drips down his balls and down your ass to the bedding below. So fucking sloppy and wet, a perfect little cunt made to take his cock.
His brows furrow, mouth falling open as his own orgasm mounts and builds. Now that your well-earned orgasm is out of the way, he can finally let go and allow himself to experience it as well.
“Where do you want it?” he grits out, teeth clenched from the ache of holding back.
His balls draw up, heavy and full. He feels ready to positively explode when you gasp, “I-Inside!”
His head falls back, the loudest, most drawn out moan you’d never expected to come from a stoic man like Simon falling from his lips. It’s deep and primal, full of nothing but euphoria as he spills into you. His load is hot and thick, drooling out of the sides of his cock as he slows his thrusts to milk the least bits of pleasure from the orgasm.
When he comes down, he collapses. Your legs lock around his waist and he draws you tightly into his arms, neither of you caring for the way his weight crushes you. All you care about is being wrapped up in his arms where you belong.
He pulls his neck from your chest and kisses your forehead. Then he kisses your nose. Then your lips.
“Pretty,” he breathes, still drunk on the endorphins of the sex so his lips are a little looser than they’d normally be, “Always thought you were pretty.”
“Really?” you prompt, cheeks heating at his confession.
He hums, “Glad you’re finally mine.”
You beam, “No one deserved me as much as you.”
He nods as if it’s the most obvious statement in the world, rolling off of you with a sigh. His cock unplugs your cunt and a gush of your mixed cum comes out, making you whine. He laughs softly, drawing you back into your arms.
You’ve never felt safer and warmer in your life, knowing in that moment that you should have come to Simon all along. There’s no one in the world who would be there for you, more willing and able than he.
this work belongs to rowarn. do not repost to third party websites or use for character ai. reblogs welcome and appreciated!
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley smut#cod x reader#cod smut#ghost x reader#ghost smut
10K notes
·
View notes
Text
Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader x Rio Vidal: The Prize
Summary: Agatha has been fighting to reclaim her prize from Rio for a long time.
AO3
Included: dark themes, lesbian drama & yearning, near-death experiences, smut; biting, orgasm denial, praise kink, degradation, s&m, blood, fingering, cunnilingus, use of pet names, begging
Words: 9.7k
Tag List: @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @escapetodreamworld @white--lillies @imtrashinflames
1750
Glowing hands press over the seeping wound, magic swirling around them, diving inside. There’s no satisfaction of watching the flesh knit itself back together. Instead, your magic drifts right back out like smoke.
Oh Goddess.
“Do take your time.” Agatha snaps, voice strained, “I have absolutely no plans.”
Five types of poison are immune to tangible magic. You know antidotes for three. Staring hard at the wound, you look for the blackened edges consistent with Nightrot, finding the flesh as red and irritated as to be expected. Is it swelling or screaming that goes with Alewife’s Revenge? A glance up at her face finds it normal. Her lips are pursed.
Your hands shake, one hovering over the open wound in her middle, the other clutching your head. Remembering has never mattered more so why is your mind empty? Pieces of information slip through your fingers like sand. Dozens of cadavers, hundreds of hours of study; useless.
Unable to rely on your memory, you scramble across the floor for the dagger that’d flown from the wall. The little light coming from the boarded windows prompts the metal to glint. The edge of the blade is sticky with blood, beneath it a metallic sheen that can only be a witches poison. You hold it up to the slant of light to see the color.
“Are you out of your mind? Heal me!”
You drop the dagger the second the poison glints purple. You slap your hand over your mouth, panic beginning to course through your veins; the body’s own special brand of poison.
How are you going to tell her?
“I’m trying!” You snap, voice breaking.
It’s a cruel joke that the poison should be so well matched to the witch bearing its effects. You stare at the edge as it rocks from being dropped, your stomach turning when the color doesn’t change. If only you could be wrong this once.
Were you a lesser witch, you’d curl in a little ball and quail under the weight of your failures. The idea is seductive. Yet, you turn to Agatha where she lies, pale and sweating on the floorboards. The pallor of her skin makes you whimper.
“Agatha,” You start, your voice holding just enough, “it’s Saura’s Dread.”
Things click into place behind her eyes despite the glazed-over look to them. She fights to find a way out of this, but you know well that the reality cannot be avoided.
“Give it to me. You’re wrong.”
“I know poisons better than most.” You hand the dagger over anyway.
“That’s not saying much.”
The comment stings, but you let it slide off you. You cannot give into petty squabbles now. With so little time to find a solution, you have to focus.
She stares hard at the blade as if willing it to change.
“Brew the antidote.”
“I can’t.” You whisper.
There’s a flicker of something in her gaze that looks suspiciously like rage. Your own internal fire leaps to meet it; of all the emotions to look upon you with—rage? As if this is your fault? You’re not the one that dragged her into this old cabin, intent on sifting through the contents.
It’s not your fault. You know that as the truth. Yet, shame floods you.
“You’re a healer.” Agatha spits, “What good are you if you don’t know the antidote?”
“Someone didn’t let me stay with my coven long enough to learn it!”
“The next time someone tries to keep you from me, I’ll let them.”
The fire in your chest ebbs. An old argument at an inconvenient time. There will be no rough makeup sex following this argument, no unspoken apologies in Agatha’s kisses. All the time, all the bodies; they cannot be for nothing. They mean too much.
Fleetingly, you feel pity for your old coven. In their minds they had attempted to do the right thing. Keeping you from Agatha must have seemed reasonable. But you remember how many bodies they made, how pleased it made Her.
Saura’s Dread takes its victim within six hours. This, you know confidently. The demise is slow and painful, a poison intended for torture. You can’t stand to see Agatha in this kind of pain. You’re not ready for her to be just another body.
“I’m calling Her.” You say.
“No.” Agatha counters, “She’ll never let me live it down.”
“You won’t live down anything if you’re dead, Agatha.”
“I won’t die.”
She’s an idiot.
Magic flowing into your fingertips, you trace familiar symbols on the floor. They glow bright and then dim as they wait. Around your neck sits an old, jagged bone, tied by a thread; you use the end of said bone to split your palm and drip blood over the symbols.
Agatha’s mouth is moving, but you don’t listen. You mutter the incantation in latin under your breath. The words—old and comforting—curl your tongue in ways that you’ve only known between two pairs of legs. You end the incantation with the key that gets you around the waiting list; Her name, Her true name.
There’s a blinding flash of light and a puff of fog, but the symbols contain it. You catch the glint of white teeth.
“You rang?”
Rio smiles, clad in darkness and bone and that same beauty that always stops you in your tracks. Upon seeing her, you breathe easier.
“We need your help.”
“You wouldn’t have called so formally if it was quality time you wanted.” Amusement dances in her eyes.
She eyes the symbols on the floor. They no longer glow, but still they contain her. She scuffs a foot along them.
You smudge the symbols and the containment drops. Stepping over the magic as it sinks down into the earth, she catches you by the waist and devours you; lips and teeth and tongue dominating your own, leaving you helpless to do anything but give in. And you’re all too willing to do so.
When she pulls back, you’re breathless. Somewhere in the fray your lip has begun to bleed. Rio soothes her tongue over the wound and you feel it close.
“Hand.”
You offer the demanded appendage, palm up. She places a kiss in the center and licks the blood from her lips.
Rio turns her head to where Agatha has dragged herself to sit against the wall. The rise and fall of her chest is slow, but there. She glares at the two of you. You flush while Rio grins.
“Hi, sweetheart. You look like shit.” Rio says, delighted.
“A side effect.” Agatha grits out, “The same can’t be said for you.”
Rio tilts her head back and laughs. It’s deep and rich and fills you with thoughts that are not appropriate for this situation. The hand on your waist squeezes as if she knows. Then, she releases you.
She crosses to crouch before Agatha, devious smile shifting to something softer. One of her hands works through a lock of Agatha’s hair, brushing it out of her face.
“What did you get yourself into?”
Agatha’s eyes drop to Rio’s lips, but she stays silent.
“Saura’s Dread.” You choke out, shame winding itself tight inside you, “I don’t—I can’t brew the antidote.”
You should have done more to push off Agatha’s agenda; just so you would have finished your research. A few extra days wouldn’t have hurt. They would’ve infuriated Agatha—and Rio by extension—but then you would know the solution instead of watching her slowly wither away.
Rio doesn’t look away from Agatha, but you know the soothing tone is for you, “It’s okay.”
Something passes between the two that you miss. One moment, Rio holds Agatha’s face in her hand, while Agatha—hesitantly—leans into the contact. The next Rio is standing between the two of you, toying with her knife, all business.
You feel a chill pass through you at the unfamiliar territory; staring into Rio’s eyes and finding the affection buried away. It stings more than knowing how you’ve failed.
“You’re asking me for life in a bottle.” Rio says, grinning, “What do I get in return?”
Short of knowing that Rio would fix it should you ask, you find yourself shamefully bereft of anything with value. You search the space for anything to bargain with. Agatha’s eyes should be looking at you with knowing, but her gaze doesn’t leave Rio.
When Agatha tilts her head and grins, turning on the bedroom eyes, you pause.
“What you’ve wanted for years.” Agatha says, “Brew me a little potion and you can have her all to yourself.”
Rio’s brows shoot sky high. You tilt your head, then freeze. It’s you. Agatha’s bargaining you.
There should be a sweetness in knowing you’re the only thing of value she has to offer, yet the taste is sour on your tongue. The words feel like a punishment, a reprimand—and not the kind you’ve begged at her feet for. That awful part of you would rather Agatha die than ever willingly give you up and Rio eyes you as if she knows it. Does it please her to know how they’ve twisted you?
One mistake, you think bitterly, and Agatha throws in the towel. Despite all the near-death experiences you’ve endured at her side. Despite the years you’ve spent together. You never expected a punishment of this proportion.
You bite your tongue. At your sides, your fists clench and unclench. They glow with the anger you can’t keep hidden.
Pride rears its unhelpful head and you speak before you can stop to think, “My life for Agatha’s.”
Rio’s full attention is on you, then. Her eyes are bright.
You speak directly to her, “I’m bound to you and The Road until such time as Agatha traverses it to collect me.”
Had you not been so focused on Rio, you would have noticed Agatha flinch at your suggestion. Her wide, glassy eyes stare at you. You do not give her the satisfaction of your attention. If she is going to be cruel, so can you.
Your terms are a challenge; and Agatha doesn’t turn down a challenge.
Her devious, wicked mask clicks back into place. Rio’s expression is pensive. Despite the poison working through her system, Agatha almost looks as powerful as her best day.
“You’d let me steal her away, O Death?” Agatha teases.
The comment is salt in your open wound. You glare, wishing more than anything that you could wrap your hands around her pretty neck and squeeze. You want her not only to beg—but to apologize.
But Rio’s eyes haven’t left you for a second.
“Alright, sweetheart.” Rio says, “Your life, bound to mine, until Agatha comes to get you.”
In it you understand the desire you both share; to have Agatha, one way or another. You wonder if the desire for possession is your own or something you’ve learned from her.
From her pocket comes a small glass vial. She tosses it to Agatha, who only barely catches it. She cradles it like something precious.
“Drink up.” Rio orders.
Then Rio is there, arm around your waist, holding all your pieces together. You lean into her comfort as color returns to Agatha’s cheeks.
“Te veo.”
--
1754
“She waits for you.”
Agatha whips around, purple crackling at her fingertips. At the edge of the clearing, Rio leans her weight against a gnarled tree, eyeing the withered husks of once-witches in the grass with interest. She looks almost predatory.
“Does she?”
Rio nods, eyes shifting to Agatha, “Like a puppy. It’s almost pathetic.”
It is pathetic, is what she should say. Time and affection have curbed her tongue on this small thing at least. On you. Agatha’s smile is knowing.
Rio has pulled her punches toward you since the beginning. Agatha’s never minded. It’s almost sweet watching the oldest force in the multiverse tiptoe around a witch barely into her second century. Is it that craving for ancient knowledge in your veins that renders Rio down, or is it simply your pretty face?
Does it matter?
“I don’t have what I need yet.” Agatha rolls her eyes, “Witches these days don’t have the power they used to.”
“Or maybe you’re leveling the population before they have time to strengthen.” Rio raises a brow.
Agatha thinks, deliberately dramatic, then shrugs, “No, that’s not it.”
With a shake of her head, Rio steps out from the treeline, and closes the distance across the clearing. Agatha watches every step with dark eyes. The stench of death and magic sends a chill down Rio’s spine; there’s nothing more delicious than a life snuffed out.
The wind slows in the trees as if sensing her. Birds silence their sweet tunes. There is frantic rustling in the trees somewhere as creatures do all they can to get away.
Yet Agatha stands, waiting, and allows Death to pull her into her embrace.
One of Rio’s great loves is watching skin split so she can lap up the blood at her own pace. Yet, when her hands settle on Agatha’s hips, they’re gentle. She doesn’t open wounds with her teeth. Rather, she moves her lips over Agatha’s until she can’t breathe. Agatha is wary when she pulls back.
Rio shrugs, “A message from her.”
“I see. Forgiven me, has she?” A slow, taunting grin, “Anything from you?”
“Have you earned it?”
“These bodies didn’t make themselves.”
A tilt of her head, as if considering, “Maybe you’ve earned something small, then.”
And they meet in a clash of lips and teeth. Rio’s hands are everywhere, leaving behind deep claw marks that make Agatha moan into her mouth. Agatha’s own nails pierce through cloth and skin at her hips but draw no blood. She tries to push Rio backward toward one of the trees, she just needs a little leverage and Rio’s thigh to—
Rio pulls back. She grins something wicked at the flash of Agatha’s purple.
“Something small.”
Agatha makes a face, batting her lashes. Rio doesn’t give in.
“You’re awful.”
“You love it.” Rio says, then her face takes on something more serious, “Don’t keep her waiting, Agatha.”
Then she’s gone as if she was never there; the only evidence being the bleeding marks on her skin. Agatha stares at where she stood for a long time before moving on.
--
1801
The Road changes, you’ve seen, as the covens come along. Small cottages, ancient ruins—the most interesting was an old system of catacombs, though it lacked the remains you’d been intent on studying.
Your favorite, though, is the bower, absent of any illusions or spells.
Beneath a canopy of purple leaves upon a seat of grass, you watch the events unfold from afar. An old curved trunk sits at your back keeping you upright. The animals—lost familiars, mostly—wander up to you here, nibbling at fallen leaves and taking up residence in your lap.
From outside it could be mistaken for a simple tree. Yet, beneath it, the world is at your fingertips. The position of your place presents the underside of millions of glowing leaves to your view; lives, Rio said, witch and non-witch alike.
You find the one you love best among the foliage. You trace your finger down the purple veins, hoping she feels you, thinks of you, misses you. The veins seem to glow a little brighter at your touch.
Rio doesn’t enjoy you toying with them; worried a wrong move on your part will take a life too soon, upsetting the greater balance she’s beholden to. But she taught you how to handle Agatha’s. Trace, never prod. Caress, but never pluck.
A black cat settles in your lap and you sit straighter.
Soothing a hand down her back, she purrs. Her little body presses against your stomach and basks in your warmth.
“You really are too predictable.” Rio says.
She stands a few feet away, clad in dirt and muck, yet still beautiful. Always beautiful.
“I like it here. It’s comforting.”
“You like being close to Agatha.” She corrects.
The leaf in question glows brighter as if sensing the mention. You trace a finger along the edge, willing all your love into it.
“This is all I have of her.” You admit.
Something like softness creeps into Rio’s face. As soon as it appears, it recedes. She joins you under the canopy. The cat in your lap startles and leaps from your lap, darting back into the underbrush.
You had never thought to secure some token of Agatha’s, then. Now, with nothing of her’s to hold close, you settle for her life-line, begging it to tell you her whereabouts and if she’s safe; it is always silent. Rio is, too. She doesn’t mention much when you ask, though you know she knows the actions of every life tied to her.
The Road is a wonderful home. Rio is an attentive partner. But you ache, still, for the other set of hands you knew; those who were predictable in their firmness, balancing the sudden changes of Rio’s own.
“You’re crying.” Rio says.
Her face is dark, but fury lingers around the edges. Something like worry flutters in and out of her eyes. You have nothing to say, so you only nod.
Then you’re in her lap. Rio’s bunching up your dress to your waist, canines embedded in your neck. Her nails dig into your hips and the blood warms you. You whimper.
Lips kiss down your neck while a hand hovers between your legs. You bear down, desperate for any friction to dull the ache. And she gives it to you. Her hand is exactly where you want it, fingers rubbing and pressing, and you grind your hips hard, harder until you’re right there.
And then her hand is gone.
You whine. Your hips move of their own volition, searching for that pressure to send you right over the edge. Rio’s lips catch your own in a bruising kiss and you whimper into her mouth.
Needy, desperate, you can almost hear her say.
But when she pulls away and digs her nails in harder, she whispers, “Cry for me, sweetheart.”
She alternates between giving you what you crave and rescinding it for hours. You whimper, moan, and beg. She laughs and repeats herself—cry for me. You lose count of how many almost-orgasms tighten your body just to go unfulfilled. You do cry. You sob and she’s there, tongue licking up your tears and knuckle deep inside you, thumbing over your clit until you have what you want.
You’re not sure how long you lay there, after, crying against her.
--
1833
Rio’s arm is warm where you’re wrapped around it. She leads you through the winding stone streets, around grand buildings with stained-glass windows. Some of the scenes depicted in the glass are beautiful, simple; but the majority are Catholic in nature, dripping with sadness and guilt. You shake your head.
Passersby nod or tilt their hats, but don’t seem to see you. Their eyes go especially glassy when they look at Rio.
Whereas you’re clad in a dress of rich layered fabric, Rio has opted for more masculine attire. The low heels of her dress shoes click upon the stone. The unwrinkled fabric of her suit smells of smoke.
Your heels don’t quite agree with the stone. After the fifth time of a near-twisted ankle, you huff, “Could I not have worn flat shoes?”
“The heels compliment your legs.”
“You can’t even see them.”
“Yet.” She winks.
You roll your eyes, ignoring the heat suffusing your cheeks. Another nod to a passing couple and Rio makes a sharp turn. You’re led into a damp, dim alleyway.
The ground is made from rough slabs of uneven stone. You curse when your heel slips and only Rio’s strength keeps you standing. Water slides down the walls on either side, thick moss growing in the cracks. You reach out to feel it only for your hand to come away red.
If not for Rio pulling you along, you’d have screamed. Blood cascades down the walls. From it grow dark, twisted plants you’ve studied beside The Road. Beneath the plants and out of them come bones; most have yellowed with age, but there is the occasional bright-white specimen.
Surprise aside, you lean toward the bones with interest. Still, Rio presses on.
The alleyway is growing slimmer by the second. Should it continue to do so, you’ll be forced to walk behind Rio, and the thought makes you tense.
Rio squeezes your hand, “Relax, sweetheart.”
“I’d relax more if I knew what we were doing here.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Before you’re forced to walk single-file, you come to the end. Rio traces a counter-sigil upon the stone. With a shudder, a door is revealed. Above the silver knocker, embedded in the door, sits an unblinking eyeball. The blue pierces you.
Rio pulls and slams the knocker. The eyeball falls from the door and hits the ground with a sickening pop. You nearly shriek while Rio makes noises of delight.
“Ooh,” She chuckles, “we’re not the first to arrive.”
You try not to think about what the eye must look like now, “Can I go home?”
“Why so squeamish all of a sudden? You handle the cadavers I bring you just fine.”
“That’s different. That’s research.”
“Who says this isn’t, sweetheart?”
The door opens soundlessly. Inside, the scene is much the same; another dark, slim space, though notably absent of plants and body parts. The owner of this place must be allergic to candles, the lighting situation is just pathetic.
Rio waits. When you make no move to walk inside, she sighs, nudging you with a hand on your lower back, “Ladies first.”
You’re not sure if being first or last is the worst. If anything is to jump from the walls now, you’ll take the brunt of it; you’re reminded of that day with Agatha all those years ago. Rio’s warmth at your back offers the strength you need to continue. Though, you do cling to her hand the whole way.
The hallway empties into a full room. Dark shelves match the height of the walls, on them jars full of ingredients. There are tables boasting dozens of drawers, though none sit open. Glasses and tools and cauldrons line the tabletops. In the center of it all are two figures; well, one figure and one corpse.
You can’t catch your breath. She’s as beautiful as the day you lost her.
“Agatha.” You whisper.
Agatha turns and smirks. She doesn’t look nearly as surprised to see you as you do her. Upon seeing you, her expression softens, eyes full of affection and longing. It hardens a bit when she glances behind you.
“You ruined the surprise.” Rio says, arms crossed, though one motions to the corpse, “We needed her.”
“What could you possibly need with a poison witch?”
“Our darling healer wanted to study with her.”
Something like regret turns Agatha’s face when she regards you. With a wave, she produces a thick book full of yellowing pages. You tilt your head when she offers it to you.
“Her life’s work. I’m sure there’s more here somewhere.” Agatha shrugs.
You take it and hold it to your chest reverently. All this time you thought Rio was putting you off about finding a competent poison witch and yet here you are, standing in her apothecary. She lies dead on the floor but you couldn’t care less when the real gift stands before you.
You long for her. You ache to feel the gentle caress of her hands on your face, the threat of her nails on your scalp.
A look at Rio tells you she isn’t entirely pleased with the turn of events. Yet when she sees your excitement some of her ire dissipates. The yearning in your eyes must be plain, since she gives you a single nod.
Book of poisons tossed onto the tabletop, you throw yourself into Agatha’s arms. She’s as steady as you remember. Her hand grips your chin and forces your lips to hers. Her hands are predictably firm wherever they land. She grips you as if afraid you’ll slip away. But her kiss, oh gods her kiss; soft lips and taunting, sharp tongue. The length of her body pressed against your own and so warm.
There are hands in your hair and this is all you’ve wanted—all you’ve craved for years. Why, then, do you feel the urge to cry? To rip the heart from your chest and banish it to where it won’t hurt?
Agatha is warm and steady. You bury your face in her neck and her in yours. Your hands shake with the force of clinging to her.
The feeling is bliss. Yet, it isn’t complete.
You glance over Agatha’s shoulder to Rio. She stands in the doorway, watching the scene with dark-eyed interest; but there’s a weariness in the set of her shoulders.
“Beloved.” You call, holding one of your hands out to her.
Rio raises a brow. Her eyes don’t stray from your outstretched hand.
“This is your gift, sweetheart.”
“And it’s incomplete without you.”
Her eyes stray to Agatha, who has taken to watching her, too. This time, Agatha’s eyes don’t harden. They maintain that soft look you melt for.
Agatha extends her own hand alongside yours.
“Come on.” Agatha urges, soft.
You watch the resolve break moments before she wedges her way into your embrace. Her fingers lace through yours, but her face is pressed into Agatha’s neck. She pushes and nuzzles like she wants to become part of her. It reminds you of the cat that visits the bower—Ebony—but you don’t dare say so.
Agatha’s hands leave you to caress Rio’s face. A thumb rubs along her cheekbone. You press yourself against Rio’s back, unable to glimpse her face but sure of the longing in her expression.
In a perfect world, there would be no separation between the three of you. No clothes, no emotional barriers, not even flesh to keep your hearts from mingling into one. You settle for Rio’s hand in your own and Agatha’s blue eyes locked on you.
You lean over Rio’s shoulder and kiss Agatha, your free hand fumbling with getting into the former’s pants. She chuckles darkly in your ear. It ignites a spark in your chest; a dangerous longing for this to remain, to be always. You try to push it away and focus on how Rio moans in your ear instead.
--
1869
“Will you walk with me?”
Rio nods, smiles grandly, “Of course.”
You laugh. She holds out her arm, ever the picture of a gentleman, but you lace your fingers through hers instead.
As a rare treat, you lead. You pull her along the road. The leaves change beneath your feet, from silver and black to the hues of autumn and then to pure green. The Road opens its arms into a clearing bathed in the color. Only the stone building in the center stands apart.
Upon your approach, flowers grow in the flattened grass where you step; honeysuckle and heliotrope, baby’s breath and red chrysanthemum. Rio glances over her shoulder as the blooms spring forth.
Ivy grows up the walls of the building. You brush a gentle hand over the leaves.
Crumbling, worn headstones en masse wait behind the building.
Rio tilts her head, “What is this?”
The door is unlocked. You knew it would be. The Road cannot keep you from this place.
Inside is warm and hazy. Papers with elegant scrawl cover every surface, books half-open litter any free spaces. Shelves line the walls, jars bearing various specimens. Plush couches overflow with deep, red cushions, begging you to sit and stay. A fire cracks in the fireplace.
Rio turns this way and that. She wanders around the room, flipping through books. A fingernail taps against a jar full of eyes. An errant paper is plucked from where it sits haphazardly atop the mantle. She stops.
You know the paper the second she comes into contact with it; can remember the way you wax poetic about how beautiful she is, how safe you feel in her arms. She picks another, then another, so on, and you know every word the second she touches them; the way she unwinds in Agatha’s arms, her face twisted in perfect fury, the lightless turn of her eyes when she teeters on the edge of wickedness.
She looks at you, vulnerable and unsure, “What is this?”
“My heart.”
“That… then why is all of this here?”
Her hand shakes the papers for emphasis. You resist the urge to laugh, lest she think you’re making light of her. Death can be cruel, but you try not to be.
You step close. Gently, the papers are extracted and returned to their places. Rio stares and hardly breathes as you take your face in her hands.
“You pulled away after that night.” You whisper, finger tracing her cupids-bow, “Do you think I touch you only because it is convenient?”
Rio’s lip curls. Fists bunch at her side, crackling with green light. You feel the rumble of her anger working through her chest. She tries to pull from your hold, but you don’t let her.
“Do you think I kiss you and pretend it’s her?”
Rio snarls, “I will kill you if you don’t stop talking.”
You smile. The threat is a real one, but you don’t fear it; the outcome is remaining by her side. With one hand you reach and pull one of her fists between you. You unravel it, trying not to flinch against the bursts of power over her skin. You press the palm of her hand over where your heart resides inside your chest.
The snarl fades just so. Fury still lingers in her eyes. You press your hand over hers and will her to see, to know.
“Look at the walls.” You order.
Upon the walls, plain and dark, shimmering scrawl appears. Agatha Harkness, it reads in shaky lettering; like a name carved into a tree. One signature turns into ten and ten into countless. Purple and shimmering is Agatha’s brand upon you. Rio yanks and reaches for the dagger she keeps handy.
Rio’s true name appears in shimmering green letters, then. Same as Agatha’s, there are countless signatures. They conjoin and overlap until the walls of your heart look like nothing more than a child’s colorful scribbles.
She stares at the walls in disbelief. The knife in her hand clatters to the ground.
“I’ve carved your names upon my heart so I’ll never forget who it belongs to.” You whisper.
“Sweetheart…”
You bend and collect her blade, pressing it into her hand, “Now do it yourself.”
Her hand wraps around the handle reflexively. Rio’s hand doesn’t leave the spot over your heart, feeling the steady, truthful beat.
“It’ll hurt you.” Rio says. She doesn’t bother hiding the desire in her voice.
You urge, “Make me hurt.”
Each artful stroke of her blade is slow. You whimper, but grip her wrist and push the blade deeper into your flesh. She scoffs when tears flood your eyes. The tears run down your cheeks while you smile, filled with bliss and ache in equal measure.
It’s a gift to love so deeply it wounds you. You never want her to stop; who, aside from your shared scar, holds such power? Who else in the world could touch your heart truly enough to carve into it?
There’s delight in her every movement. She consumes the pain of millions and yet, none of it is of her own making. She can only relish in what others have done; torture for a being who remains eternally intimate with the greatest methods of drawing out agony. Death has no free will but that you offer her—and she takes what none else would give, ravenously.
Is it enough?
Not forever, something tells you, you think it might be her, but for now.
--
1925
“You called?” Rio asks.
“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re avoiding me.”
Agatha leans against the wall beside a small window. The pane has been slid upward, letting in the sounds of the city below, releasing the smoke of Agatha’s cigarette into the air outside.
The cigarette is clutched in gloved hands. Her expression is amused as she draws in and releases the smoke, watching it form the shapes she wills. Though it has no effect on such a witch, Rio admires the object’s capability of bringing Agatha infinitesimally closer to her.
“We’ve been busy.”
“Busy or not, I’d say twelve bodies earns me a visit. And with the bulk of good booze I just removed from the market, I’d say I’ve earned a little more.”
An obvious lure with paltry bait, still Rio bites, “What do you have in mind?”
“Let me see her.”
She should. You’ve come to accept Agatha’s absence in your life, but she sees how much time you spend in the bower, and how you flinch when her name comes up. Rio hadn’t expected the frequency of Agatha’s name on the lips of covens walking the road to be so overwhelming, but it always drives you right into her arms; that she will relish.
But Death is not giving. She takes. Taking is, in fact, her favorite hobby. Twelve bodies is not enough to make up for the haunted look in your eyes. She wants more—will have it. Agatha has to earn you.
“I’ll need a little more from you.” Rio drawls.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to kill that many witches here with the nightlife?” Agatha throws her hands up. Ash flies from the forgotten cigarette.
The sounds of Chicago seem to grow louder, as if to aid her point. Rio grins. She crosses the small space and takes the cigarette, snuffing it out on the back of Agatha’s hand. The action prompts a quiet moan.
“It shouldn’t be a problem. What I want, you have an abundance of.” Rio’s smile widens as she manipulates Agatha’s hand, removing the glove, pushing and prodding until purple flashes along the flesh.
A cooling breeze sneaks in the window and rustles the fringe along Agatha’s dress. It’s a beautiful thing, short and decadent. Rio knows you’ve enjoyed the few sightings of the period fashion you’ve glimpsed, but like her, you’d enjoy this specific dress in a pile on the floor.
Agatha’s eyes stare at where Rio’s flesh meets her own. Her eyes are contemplative, calculating. She hesitates. And that is her fatal mistake.
Rio throws her across the room with a shove. Agatha’s side hits one of the walls and she falls, face-first, onto the mattress she’s been sleeping on. The springs shriek at the sudden weight. Agatha snarls, throwing out a blast of purple that slams into Rio’s chest. Rio moans something filthy.
There’s a brief struggle where Rio does her best to keep Agatha pinned; to the bed, to the wall, wherever there’s a surface. Yet Agatha is slippery. Her magic whisks her right out of the hold Rio puts her in and wherever Agatha wills it; which currently, is behind the other witch so Agatha can kick the back of her knees. Rio kneels not of her own volition.
She braces to stand, only to find the blade of her own dagger at her throat.
Rio’s gaze has lost any warmth. Her affection is buried deep, beneath layers and layers of earth she craves to bury Agatha in right this second, “You’re breaking her heart.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem, you like seeing her cry.”
“When I’m the one responsible.”
Agatha rolls her eyes. She maintains a carefully ambivalent expression. Rio knows better; knows, under all that forced emotion, that Agatha’s heart is waging against her head, warring over her selfish desire to keep every bit of power.
Then, something shifts. Rio feels it. Agatha has made her choice and it isn’t you. And it ignites a rage in her chest unlike anything she’s felt in centuries.
She snatches the dagger back from Agatha’s grasp and only just barely resists the urge to bury it in her chest. If she has to drag Agatha back to you kicking and screaming, she will. You would like that, wouldn’t you?
“I’ll kill you.” Rio vows, and means it. Agatha can’t run away from the two of you if her soul is Rio’s to keep.
Agatha’s eyes flash with fear. Then, she grins around it, “If you can catch me.”
Latin words roll off Agatha’s tongue faster than Rio can comprehend. She recognizes the words and what they mean, where they’ve come from. Rio reaches out with her magic for the Darkhold too late; it, and Agatha, have completely vanished from her awareness.
When she returns to The Road and finds you pacing before the bower, she stops short.
“Did you—is she dead?” You ask, worrying your lip. Though your eyes dart every which way, looking for whatever manifestation of Agatha you believe she’s brought you.
“Sweetheart…”
--
1937
“Do you think if I cut you open you would heal too fast for me to do any research?”
Rio tilts her head, considering. She’s sprawled out on the plush couch inside the physical manifestation of your heart, toying with her knife, having a staring contest with the unblinking jar of eyes while you jot down thoughts into notebook number… well, she’s lost count.
“Probably.” She answers, “I’m also not sure I have organs.”
You pause, “How is that even possible?”
“Magic, sweetheart.”
Leaning back, your mind begins to race; given how old she is, it would only make sense that the organs the body came with are gone, rotted away—but would the flesh not go with it? You massage your temples. Life magic is no easier to understand than Death magic.
There’s only one way to test your hypothesis. You stand from your place at the table and cross to her, straddling her hips where she lay on the couch.
“I want to see.” You say, holding out a hand.
Rio hands over her dagger and sinks further into the couch, as if that is possible. She grins up at you with no shortage of delight. You do your best to tamp down on your own grin.
The flesh beneath your hands is warm and smells of damp earth where you peel away her shirt. Her eyes darken with every inch of flesh revealed to you. Firm and unafraid, you press the tip of the dagger down against her sternum. The action earns you an exaggerated moan.
You rip the dagger away, glaring, “Behave.”
“Or what?” Rio taunts, tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek.
“Or I stop letting you watch my dissections.”
She tenses, “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I, beloved?”
“Get on with it.”
You lean down and steal a quick kiss. It melts away the darling little pout on her lips.
When you press the dagger back down, the flesh bends, but doesn’t open. You tilt your head and press harder. Rio watches, unphased. There is absolutely no give to her flesh. It gets to a point where you’re pressing your entire body weight behind the dagger, but Rio only laughs, squirming as if the action tickles.
You whine and sigh. The dagger is dropped unceremoniously onto her chest while you lean an elbow against the back of the couch, sinking somewhat into the cushion.
“If you want live specimens, we can collect some.” She soothes.
The idea isn’t intolerable, but you shake your head.
“They scream too much.”
“Anesthetic exists, sweetheart.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
You look away, tracing the walls and their offerings with your eyes. Upon them hang paintings of your own making; scenes of life, death, love, fear—mostly fear.
The human condition fascinates you, always has. Of the emotions to study, fear is the hardest; it is always fleeting in your wake; your face is too kind, too trustworthy, wiping away any sense of the unease you seek to study. You stare at your paintings and feel only distaste, knowing they’re not quite right.
You can’t claim to have always had such taste. No, a cultivation for the finer flavors of life and death takes time. You can pinpoint where the itch started, however; that day in your childhood village when a dying soul reached out to you—scarcely were you a day older than four—and found no assistance.
How beautiful it was; grisly, messy, but beautiful. You did not flinch away. Rather, you found yourself drawn in, eager to see more. And being of a coven of healers, your desire was fulfilled. Death was yours before you knew her name.
Looking down at her, she stares back, unashamed to be caught. The heart in your chest—which has felt so stagnant in recent years—warms toward something almost pure.
Rio will one day claim your soul. This, you know, and accept; your soul belonged to her the second you watched that woman die. You fear the when. What becomes of you when she claims your soul? What if you have yet to conduct all the research you desire? There is so much still to learn and you know she’ll abandon it for the chance to keep you.
You love her, but you’ll never forgive her the knowledge you’ll one day lose. The warmth in your chest doesn’t ebb.
Her top is still splayed open from your attempt at dissection. A healthy amount of flesh is bared to your eyes. You trace one finger from her neck to the center of her chest and tap, just above where a heart should be.
“When you come for me,” You say, “I want to hold your heart in my hand.”
“You already do.” She utters.
“Will you let me study it, then, when I’m but a soul?”
“You can study whatever you wish as long as it leads to me.”
--
1989
Agatha dwells on mistakes, often. She just doesn’t allow them to distract from her purpose. She is ruthless, to her very core.
She spends an embarrassing amount of time trying to open the damned door to The Road. One coven after another, all failures. There is an obscene beauty in claiming a reward for what would otherwise be failure on her part.
Time passes, enemies made, promises broken. She shrugs them all off. Yet she can’t shake the feeling of your hands in her hair, on her face. The lingering whisper of your kisses haunts her. The Darkhold whispers to her, oftentimes in language she shouldn’t comprehend, and it offers her the solution, should she just be patient;
The Scarlet Witch
--
2026
The power that floats before you is biting and all too familiar.
It fights against your hold, twisting and writhing like a wild animal, desperate to return to its mistress. But you’re stronger for now. The Scarlet Witch threw this power into the ether in her attempt at playing Death, and now it is yours to hold until Agatha comes for it.
Anger rubs against the heart in your chest like a cat. You lean into it, feeling your own power respond to subdue that which isn’t yours.
Rio watches beside you. She runs her fingers through the purple electricity contained in your palms, laughing when it fights her. Lips press against your temple.
“Not long now.” She assures you.
You feel longing and fury in equal measure.
“I want her soul, Rio.” You whisper.
A small chuckle, low beside your ear. It sends shivers down your spine. Her hand grasps your chin and turns you to face her, her lips meeting your own. The kiss is soft. You melt into it.
She pulls back, tone careful, “You didn’t walk The Road, sweetheart.”
You have not earned what The Road promises to grant.
--
2026
Agatha doesn’t expect the end of The Road to look like Agnes’ Westview home, nor does she expect to see Rio perched on the roof, leaning back, as if waiting. But every step closer to the front yard makes her more furious.
She is owed her prize.
Upon her first step in Agnes’ yard, the front door opens, and she is blasted with something so strong that it knocks her back to The Road, on her back. She groans. Yet, she feels more alive than she has in centuries. Her body shudders with its missing piece; her power curling up in her veins, pleased to be home.
She sits up, wincing at the ache in her bones that continues despite the gift she’s received. Leaves stick to the back of her arms, little pieces having crunched beneath her weight and adhered to her skin. She does her best to brush them away while getting to her feet.
Rio remains on the roof, grinning.
There, on the porch of Agnes’ house, is you. All the glory of you.
Agatha’s heart leaps in her chest despite the scowl on your face. To her, you haven’t aged a day; still the young, fresh-faced witch following at her heels, dizzy on knowledge and the thrumming power inside. Time has not erased the love she has—so great it threatens to bring her to her knees.
“Dearest…” Agatha murmurs, taking a half-step forward.
“You have your prize.” You sneer.
Your heart aches, begging you to go to her; hasn’t it been centuries? But your pride holds you back. She left you here while she gallivanted around the world getting what she wanted.
There’s a brief flash of hurt on Agatha’s face, before it morphs into a wicked grin. Her posture changes, too, to something more proud, as she slinks across the yard toward the porch. You resist the urge to take a step back.
“No, I don’t.” She drawls, “Are you going to be a good pet and come home willingly, or do I have to put you on a leash?”
Something inside you burns for her. You ache for her touch, for her to force you to do what she wants. It creeps through the cracks of your pride and turns it into something else. You stick out your chin. Agatha snickers.
Magic pulses in your palms, pulling various items from around you to throw—not fast enough. Agatha has you kneeling with your hands bound in a blink.
“That’s not very nice, dear. And after all I’ve done to get here.”
You regain some of your fight, snarling, “You left me here.”
Agatha hums.
“Into the deal you stumbled your way into. I’m not the one who tied herself to The Road in a fit of pride.”
“You were leaving me regardless. If I was going to be handed off, I was going to do it on my own terms.”
“Did I specify a length of time in my proposal? Was there any explicit mention of how long She could have you before I came back?” Agatha asks, mean-spirited joy in her eyes upon watching the realization dawn in your own. All that time you spent agonizing… when you had shackled yourself, “Years lost because you wanted to be a self-righteous brat.”
There’s a lilt to her voice that clues you in to everything you’d once seen instinctually; Agatha has been in just as much anguish as you have, left to walk the world alone. You see the pain in her eyes. Just like then, you try to get to her now, eager to fix it, to wipe it away.
The binding around your arms keeps you stationary. You whine and pull against it.
“Agatha,” You whine, “I’m sorry.”
“You will be.” She says. Then she turns to your left, finger poised and accusing, “And you—you kept her away from me.”
Rio shrugs, smiling, “I couldn’t just make it easy on you.”
Agatha waves a hand and Rio is kneeling on the porch at your side, similarly bound. Yet where you look pained, she is delighted.
“I’m sorry.” You repeat, “I didn’t mean to be bad.”
“That doesn’t change that you were.”
A cloud of purple smoke announces your arrival to the inner bedroom of Agnes’ house. It doesn’t look like what you’ve seen from Rio, though. Where Agnes had been bland and cookie-cutter, this is rich fabrics and deep wood. It is Agatha through and through.
You and Rio kneel side-by-side at the foot of the bed, where Agatha perches. Her beautiful blue eyes don’t miss the slightest movement you make. She’s clad in a dark robe with snakes and flowers that has Rio leaning forward in interest.
Agatha’s eyes lock on you, “You’re going to apologize. Properly.”
“I’m sorry—”
“With your tongue.”
Leaning back on her forearms, Agatha spreads her legs, and you feel the desire in your body rush through you. It’s so strong you feel your head begin to pound. She’s pink and dripping and all you want is to do a good job for her.
Yet, ever the brat, you lean forward and start with kissing her inner thighs. With every press of your lips to the delicate flesh you murmur an apology. She sighs.
A hand weaves into your hair and yanks you back. Her eyes are dark. Her face is set in a punishing expression but you see the yearning in her that matches your own. She yanks again, lighter, and you moan.
“What did I say?” She asks, before directing you where she wants you.
Witches don’t subscribe to the idea of what a human would call heaven, but upon tasting her, you think you could get behind it. She’s warm and sweet. You flatten your tongue and drag it along her slit just to collect a better taste of her. Agatha’s hand presses you in harder as she moans.
Without the use of your fingers, you have to use your tongue well. You stiffen it as much as you’re able when you delve inside her and hope it is even slightly close enough to satisfy. The pathetic sounds reaching your ears—breathy moans, sweet whimpers—tell you that you’re doing fine.
“Good girl.” Agatha breathes out.
You clench around nothing. You’re sure that you’ve ruined your undergarments thoroughly from how wet you are.
Eager for more praise, you direct your attention to that small, fleshy bundle of nerves begging for your attention. You swirl your tongue around her clit and her hips stutter, before they grind against your face with a renewed sense of purpose. You smile.
“Yes—there, more—” Agatha stutters.
You were born to do as she commands. All you want is to make her happy. Following her directions is as easy as breathing.
The tip of your tongue alternates between circling her clit and flicking it. Every flick earns you a high-pitched oh! and a firm grinding of her hips. Her thighs are tightening around your head, but she’s putting up a good fight. Her legs quiver.
“There—there—I’m going to—” Is all the warning you’re given before Agatha shrieks and comes while rutting against your mouth. You lap up every drop of her wetness you can get with glee. You did this, you brought her this pleasure; the knowledge sends a happy jolt through you.
Agatha’s grip on your hair releases and you lean back, taking in big lungfuls of air. She stares down at you with a thoroughly fucked-out expression that makes you preen.
Then she leans over and pulls your lips to hers. She moans against the taste of herself on your lips, tongue collecting the flavor from your lips. You throw every ounce of love you possess into the kiss—willing her to understand the longing you felt, the thousands of hours you spent watching her lifeline just to make sure she was safe.
“Good girl.” Agatha murmurs, pressing little kisses all over your face, “My good girl.”
“All yours.” You agree.
She laughs, low and smooth, “That’s not quite the truth, is it?”
The two of you turn to regard Rio in unison. She remains in the position Agatha left her in, kneeling and bound. You admire her restraint at not breaking the bindings. Though you guess Agatha wouldn’t take kindly to that.
Rio’s eyes are black with desire. They dart between the two of you. She takes in the wetness on your face, licking her lips. You can feel her eagerness for a taste.
She’s writhing a bit in her restraints, pressing her thighs together and wiggling, looking for any source of friction she can find. Agatha tuts and she stops. If it were up to you, your face would be between her thighs, ears enjoying every sound she makes. But it isn’t up to you.
Agatha scoots back up the bed until she’s sitting against the headboard. That’s when you feel the restraints on you fall away. She beckons the two of you with a finger and you both follow the command, eager.
“Come here.” Agatha urges you specifically, patting her bare thigh.
You obey and straddle the appendage, shuddering against the feeling against your throbbing clit. There’s a split second where you think of just grinding down and taking what you want. But you don’t—you have to be good.
Words pass between Agatha and Rio during your silent struggle. When you look, she’s lying along the length of the bed, legs bunched up and spread wide next to you.
“What am I going to do with you both?” Agatha muses.
“Fuck us?” Rio drawls.
“You, my good girl,” Agatha says, ignoring Rio as she soothes a hand through your hair, “are going to use me until you come. And my bad girl isn’t going to come until I tell her she can.”
You shudder, whimpering, while Rio whines next to you. Agatha kisses your forehead while dealing a slap to Rio that makes her groan.
A hand settles onto your hip and begins to guide you through the motions of grinding against her. The friction is difficult to attain with how wet you are, but you do what you can, crying out everytime the pressure is just enough to make your toes curl. It won’t take long for you to finish.
Your face is buried in Agatha’s neck, where you press loving little kisses to the flesh. As a result you cannot see Rio. But you hear her; every movement of Agatha’s deft fingers through her wetness, every growl and keen of desire, every slap of Agatha’s hand when she gets a bit too eager. She won’t last long either, from what you can tell.
The image of Rio and Agatha in your mind is enough to push you toward that delightful little taste of death. Your hands tighten over Agatha’s shoulders.
“Agatha, can I—please?” You plead.
“So obedient, asking for permission even when you don’t need to.” Agatha praises, “Go on, darling.”
With her hand guiding you and her voice in your ear, you come so hard you see stars behind your eyes. You’re not sure what sound leaves your lips, only that your throat aches afterward.
You tune back in to hear a brutal slap of flesh on flesh. Rio snarls.
“Beg.” Agatha’s voice commands in your ear, though you know it isn’t for you.
Rio stays stubbornly silent.
The sounds of Agatha toying with her come to an abrupt halt. You don’t have the strength to lift your face from your refuge, but you can imagine that stubborn, yet pleading look in Rio’s face; wanting so deeply but not willing to give up what is required.
“If you don’t want to behave, she can have your pleasure instead.”
“No! I’ll—” You hear Rio grit her teeth, “Please, Agatha. Please let me come.”
Agatha laughs.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She coos.
Seconds—or maybe minutes—before Rio wails. There’s something primordial and animalistic wrapped inside it, almost like a growl. It makes you shudder. Then all that's left in the room is the sound of breathing.
You spent so long aching for something just like this. It’s beautiful, though you know it can’t stay; all three of you are far too ambitious to live a domestic existence, but it’s nice for now. You missed them. The heart in your chest feels complete again, filling to the brim with affection.
Tears seep from your eyes and you pull back before Agatha can question it, though you do feel her stiffen. You press kisses to her neck, her sternum, the inside of her wrist; then you grab Rio’s hand and press kisses to every pad of her fingers.
With every kiss, you murmur I love you.
--
2027
“If you don’t sedate him at least a little bit, his heart is going to give out.”
Rio’s sudden voice next to you isn’t surprising. You’ve grown used to her coming and going—Death waits for no one, after all. Her lips press to your cheek and you accept the affection.
“She did sedate him. Three times.” Agatha’s voice calls from the next room.
“Oh, I see.”
Rio leans over to examine the man on your table with no shortage of interest. He stares back, eyes impossibly wide. His heart rate picks up.
“What is he?” She asks.
“Not sure. Rapid regeneration, odd capabilities. Mutant, maybe?”
“He’s certainly not a witch.” Agatha’s leaning against the doorway now, arms folded over her chest, “Though it is taking a fair amount of magic to keep him subdued.”
“He’s no match for you, naturally.” You compliment.
Both Agatha and Rio grin at that. The former comes up behind you, hands settling on your hips. Her lips press against your neck. Then, she leans over and steals a kiss from Rio, who is all too eager to meet her halfway.
You smile. The heart in your chest threatens to burst—not unlike the specimen in front of you.
“Well, aren’t you sweet today.” Agatha comments.
“Aiming for a reward?” Rio asks.
Rio kisses her way up the flash of skin available to her eyes, making you sigh, leaning back into Agatha’s hands. Then Agatha’s lips fasten to the other side of your neck. Your head falls back and you laugh. Then you moan.
The experiment on your table is forgotten as you’re dragged into the next room and bent into all sorts of shapes you couldn’t even imagine on your own. Oh, well; if he dies before the six hour mark, you can always just find another one. The same cannot be said of the witches bracketing you. And oh, how beautiful that is.
#agatha harkness x reader#rio vidal x reader#agathario#agathario x reader#agatha all along#agatha harkness#rio vidal#agatha harkness x reader x rio vidal#agatha all along x reader#agatha all along fanfiction#wlw#wlw fanfiction#oct2024#multimilfswritings
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
LEON'S GUILTY PLEASURE
SIREN IS TYPING . . writing debut! :33 this is my first ever leon fic, so please be nice! 3: i accidentally went a bit too far and made the word count 9.4k words..um..enjoy! reblogs and replies are really helpful & help me stay motivated so if you have any kind words to share, please do! i would love to hear them! i’m sorry for the really long delay in posting this but UHHH!!! idk ;(( my bae 3k helped me with the plot for the call & i hope i tagged everyone ^_^ i did my best to proofread so hopefully it’s good!
CONTAINS: older man leon! x pornstar! reader — age gaps, alcoholism, mutual masturbation, leon is co-depended with your content, he adores you, hinted erectile dysfunction, leon is lonely and sad, reader is there to put on a show for him, video call sex, dildo use, etc!
SYNOPSIS: a lonely man copes with two things, alcohol and porn, one night he comes across a video that catches his eye, pushing him down a spiral of coping through you. he adores you and your work, his only want in life is to get closer to you, and when you make a contest and offer the winner a chance at a one on one call with you, leon jumps at the opportunity.
slumping down onto his bed, a drunk leon kennedy, sat back.
a small groan left his lips as nausea swirled around inside his stomach, he didn’t have food in his system, and his stomach was full of whiskey.
aerial shoot, his favorite.
but, fuck. he overdid it, throughout the whole evening he had been nursing a new bottle of the bitter whiskey, drinking it down like it was water, not caring about the way it burned his throat. by now it was empty, the drug seeping into his system like a blanket, making his body feel hot.
slipping down onto his bed, leon stared blankly at the roof, the room was dark and quiet.
he wasn’t tired, he was drunk, but not tired. another groan came from him, his large calloused hand moving to his face. he rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the throbbing sensation in his head. he had always been tolerant of alcohol, but tonight his body couldn’t take it anymore. he thanked a higher being for not being insanely nauseous, he wasn’t in the mood to spew up the alcohol.
he let out a deep breath before he reached out and grabbed his phone.
hitting the power button, his eyes shut immediately as the blinding light of his phone hit his eyes. “jesus, fuck—“ he grunted, quickly turning down the brightness.
looking at the screen, he wasn’t surprised when he was met with an empty inbox. no texts, no calls, no emails.
a sigh left his lips, the reminder of his loneliness brought a heavy weight inside his chest. looking to his side, there was an empty spot next to him, the bed was cold.
he was lonely.
despite what he tried to tell himself, he craves romance, he craves stability. the idea of living a happy married life was something he dreamed about when he was younger, before 1998, before he became what he is now. now he scoffs at romance because deep down, he knows no one would want to be with an alcoholic old man. his prime is gone a distant memory. he feels like a shell of himself, he doesn’t have much to live for now.
the cycle of self-hatred and self-loathing was part of his daily routine, at night, he gets lost in his thoughts.
he can’t go a day sober, it would kill him. at least that’s what he thinks.
the memories of the people he had lost haunt him, no matter how much time passes, the vacant space he has in his heart doesn’t go away. no matter what he does to try and get rid of it.
the dating scene wasn’t for him, not anymore, not at this age.
he could go and pay for hookers and prostitutes to fulfill his sexual needs, but it was never enough. the pleasure was temporary.
he wasn’t happy.
leon hasn’t been happy in a long time, so long in fact, he doesn’t remember how it feels.
his gaze focused on his phone, he wanted to stop thinking. he needed to forget everything, his grief, his anger, his loneliness. that’s why he relied on alcohol, but tonight he didn’t want to drink himself to sleep.
so, that left him with one more option.
opening the internet on his phone, his dull eyes focused as his fingers typed.
pornhub.com
this was pathetic, leon thought to himself. he was pathetic, and he knew that, but that didn’t stop him from pressing on the top link.
his thumb tapped against the glass screen, entering the website.
he was quickly met with the thumbnails of various sexual acts. from girls with a cock shoved down their throats, to girls getting folded while a man is on top of them. leon was uninterested.
he never liked porn videos made with high production, it was fake, unappealing. the bright lighting, the obnoxious moaning, and the stupid faces the girls make. it was ick worthy, leon always preferred amateur porn. it was charming when a video was poorly produced, with bad quality, and crooked angles. he liked that over other porn videos.
opening the search bar, he typed the word amateur. after clicking search, he scrolled down various videos before he found one that caught his attention.
it was a masturbation video, the title wasn’t crazy either.
college girl masturbates solo :)
it was cute, the little smiley face felt so out of place on a site like this, but it piqued his curiosity. in the thumbnail your hands were between your thighs, and the position of your phone was up — like you were taking a selfie. he didn’t see much of your face, by the angle he could only see your soft lips as you bit your bottom lip. you were wearing a cute set of lingerie, too.
there was something so cute about you, from the cutesy title and your pretty lingerie, his curiosity lead him to click on the video.
the video loaded and the first thing he saw was your breasts as you adjusted the camera down. you were holding it yourself, the camera facing you. as the camera moved down, he saw your hands slipping down to your panties.
he couldn’t see your face, seems like you were shy.
he watched with anticipation as your fingers pressed against your clothed cunt, rubbing slow gentle circles on your clit. turning up the volume of his phone, he heard the way your breath hitched. he could see as your tummy moved up and down with every breath you took.
leon’s stomach tightened as blood began to rush to his cock, his hand moving to palm against his pants as he got hard.
after a minute of teasing, you put the phone down against your bed, leon heard fabric shuffling. after a few seconds, you grabbed the phone again. the angle stayed the same, but now he could see your pretty pussy.
it was slick, glistening.
his mouth went dry as he took in the sight, your manicured fingers gently pressed against your perky clit, your touch was light, and you were savoring the pleasure.
leon heard a soft moan leave your lips, his hips squirmed as he grabbed his cock through the fabric of his pants. his hand moving to slowly grope himself.
he continued to watch with eager eyes, his hand moving to unbutton his jeans and unzip his pants. eagerly, he slipped his hand under his underwear, his hand pulling his cock out.
it was standing tall, pre-cum leaking from the slit.
he shuddered, he hasn’t been this hard in what felt like forever. he genuinely thought he lost his spark, he was in his late thirties after all.
his hand wrapped around his cock, a shaky breath left his lips as he squeezed it. his cock was thick, it wasn’t the biggest there was, but it would leave girls dumbfucked. or well, it used to. he hasn’t gone that hard in a while.
his cock was pretty, his tip was reddish, veins adorned it. the ones that made the girls mushy and whimpery.
the mental image of the girls he’s shoved his cock into filled his head. truthfully, he doesn’t really remember faces, but he remembers how they reacted. their bodies trembling and loud moans.
oh, how he missed it.
as he stared at your pretty pussy, all he could think about was shoving his cock deep inside you. have you whimpering and gasping his name as he kept you folded.
his cock twitched, fuck.
you were getting him so hard, he didn’t even think it was possible given his track record in the last few years. biting the inside of his cheek, he let out a breath, he was this hard over a girl on a porn website, but he couldn’t get this hard when he was balls deep inside a hooker’s cunt. god, this was pathetic.
pathetic, pathetic, pathetic..
you’re pathetic leon.
even as the words repeated in his head, his hand was still working on his cock, jerking and tugging on his shaft. his eyebrows were furrowed and his lips parted slightly, keeping his gaze on you, he watched as you rubbed your clit faster.
he could hear your small shaky moans, you were close and so was he.
his balls were tightening, his breathing was heavy, small pants leaving his lips as he rubbed his cock raw. chasing for a high he hasn’t felt in years.
a choked groan left his lips as he came, cum spurting out of his tip in amounts he hasn’t had since he was in his twenties. his cum was milky and thick. he continued to gently jerk his cock as he rode out his orgasm, another groan leaving his lips as his head leaned back.
his eyes fluttered shut as he felt his cock softening in his hands.
holy fuck.
his mind was fuzzy, he had almost forgotten about his phone until he heard a moan come from it. he moved his gaze towards the screen and watched as your hand stayed between your thighs before they slammed shut and you began to ride out your orgasm.
leon watched with eager eyes as you rode out your high nicely.
he squirmed and let go of his flaccid cock, his cum staining his hand, his stomach, and his pants.
he moved his hands and they gripped his phone again, he tapped on your username and watched your profile. your profile picture was a shy picture of your chest, a different set of lingerie holding your tits up.
looking at your bio, he shuddered as he read your information.
your name was pretty, it suited you. he saw your age listed, twenty-one, he just had the cum of his life to a video of a twenty-one-year-old? a feeling came to him, he didn’t know how to feel. staring at his screen, his mind still processing that information, should he be disgusted? guilty? ashamed?
he sucked in a breath and gulped.
him, a man in his late thirties, almost forty, just came to a video of a twenty-one year old girl.
it felt wrong, right? she was almost two decades younger than him, when the racoon city incident happened you weren’t even born yet. this had to be wrong.
but it wasn’t, and he knew that.
sure, the gap was questionable, but it was legal. yet, he felt so..wrong.
the worst part was that even after he realized this, he still watched your other videos.
choked moans left your glossy lips, your eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed up in pleasure. your mouth was slightly agape, forming an ‘o’ shape. leon’s cock slamming down into your cunt, his hand was placed on the small for your back as he held your upper body down and kept your ass up.
he let out small pants, his eyes shutting in bliss.
your walls were warm and snug, sucking his cock back inside your cunt with a wet squelch. you were so wet, your cunt practically drooling. it was driving him mad.
his free hand was gripping your ass, holding onto the fat like his life depended on it, his dull nails digging into your skin. he let out a guttural groan as he felt your pussy tighten around him, squeezing, milking him. he didn’t have the self control he had back then, he was edging himself to try and last longer.
it was hard, his balls were heavy with cum, cum he wanted to stuff deep inside you.
his eyes shut tightly, he bit down onto his bottom lip, his thrusts got sloppily — fuck, fuck, fuck. “s-shit—“ he choked out, his head leaned back as a whimper slipped past his lips. his cock throbbed no matter how hard he tried to stop himself, his cum spurted out of his tip.
he shook as it spurted in waves, his eyes fluttered open and he panted. “sorry—“ he said, feeling bad for not letting you cum first and filling you up without any form of protection. you hummed in reply, your ass still in the air as he pulled out. his cock getting softer, his lidded gaze watched as his cum slipped out of your puffy pussy, falling in glops onto his sheets.
he felt hot as he watched it, he was about to say something when—
his eyes opened and a shaky breath left his lips, it took a moment for him to adjust to his surroundings. quickly sitting up on his bed, leon was met with the saddening realization he was alone.
you weren’t sleeping next to him, his bed was cold.
not only that, but his pants were wet. he pulled the blanket off his body and groaned when he realized he had cum inside his pants. rubbing his forehead, he slipped off his bed groggily.
it was still dark out, his bedroom was completely dark aside from the natural light of the moon that entered through his windows.
leon hastily took his pants and underwear off, throwing them across the room to where he thought his laundry basket was. he walked to his cabinets and dug into his underwear drawer before he put them on, stumbling a bit before he finished.
running his hands through his hair, he stalked over to his bed and laid down.
reaching out for his nightstand, he grabbed his phone, this time he was mindful of the brightness so he adverted his eyes and quickly lowered it before staring at the screen.
no new messages, he frowned, except an email. it was an advertisement.
he scrolled through his apps and found one, the one you’re most active on.
instagram.
leon was rather clueless about social media, but the only reason he had it was to stalk your account. he opened the app and saw that you had uploaded a new story. he quickly tapped on the bubble and watched through your posts.
you were out that night, you took photos and various videos of the night. wearing a little black dress, your tits were practically spilling out, one wrong move and your panties would be exposed. you looked beautiful though, he adjusted himself in his bed and stared at the picture you captioned ‘fit check! :D.’ he couldn’t get over how cute your little captions were, it was humorous. a cute little emoticon at the end of a text while the picture behind it was you in the sluttiest outfit you could find.
biting the inside of his cheek, leon took a screenshot of the story and continued to scroll by your posts.
you looked so happy, so pretty. leon loved the way you smiled, all teeth, it all seemed so genuine. you were with your friends in the videos, giggling and dancing along to whatever song the club was blasting.
after he finished going through your story, he clicked on your account, no new posts. a deep sigh left his lips as he put his phone back on his nightstand and turned to his side. pulling the blankets up, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep once more.
leon wasn’t sick.
he wasn’t a bad man, he wasn’t a freak, he was just lonely.
he was lonely and desperate, that’s what he told himself. he had this lingering guilt that manifested in the back of his head, you’re a sick man, leon. that’s what it repeated, every night, while he re-watched your videos and looked through the photos he had saved, it spoke.
sick. you are sick.
leon swore he wasn’t, he was just a broken man. one that found solace in you.
the age gap was eating him up inside, he had never thought of himself as someone who would find girls in their twenties attractive. yet, where he was.
he didn’t want to imagine what people would say if they found out he jerked off nightly to the thought of you. not just your videos, but the thought of you. he found himself daydreaming about you, not just in sexual situations, but romantic ones.
at the store he finds himself looking at the flower display, thinking about getting you flowers, trying to guess what flowers you would like the most. in public, when he saw couples, a bitter swirl churned in his stomach. jealousy, he was jealous that he couldn’t do the same with you.
this was developing into more of a followership, it was slowly seeping into the realm of obsession. delusion was his best friend.
occasionally, you participated in live streams.
it was cute, you were more talkative there, and you interacted with your followers happily. he was a quiet supporter, he didn’t use the chat room. you were too intimidating, he didn’t want to say something that could make you uncomfortable. he mostly gave you gifts, sending in money for you, he didn’t say much when he donated. occasionally he would type a small message for you to read with each donation, but it was rare.
that didn’t matter though. being able to hear you say his name, albeit his username, made him happy.
in these live streams, he’s been able to learn a lot about you. he knows you’re a college student, he knows you’re studying literature, he knows you’re a good student, he knows your favorite food, your favorite animal, how you like to spend your time, and much more.
he knows more about you than the people he knows in his life.
tonight, you had scheduled a livestream. posting about it on your instagram story.
‘i’m gonna be live tonight at 8 p.m. come by to talk, and i have a surprise too! >_<’ leon was curious, a surprise? so, of course he entered the stream after you started it. he needed to know what you were planning, maybe he could be part of it.
you sat in front of your camera and greeted all of the people coming in.
leon stared at you, you were so pretty, he thought. god, he felt like a teenage boy.
get a fucking grip.
your eyes focused on the screen where the chat box was opened, he watched as your eyes lit up, “welcome back, kennedy!” you said, looking back at the camera. looking straight at him.
his mouth went dry when you addressed him.
he clicked on the chat box, looking through to see if there was another kennedy, he didn’t want to jump straight to conclusions and embarrass himself. but there was no one else with the display like that.
SKENNEDY001
okay, he wasn’t very good at making usernames. he stared at his screen, unsure of what to do. you addressed him, should he say hi back? he’s never spoken in the chat room before. what if this went wrong?
slowly tapping on the keyboard, he replied with a simple. ‘hello, how are you?’ — best he plays it safe, right? his face feels hot, and he feels embarrassed. he’s always been more of a silent admirer, honestly, he never expected you to actually notice him. all sorts of different thoughts filled his head, from negative to positive. what would people think, what would you think if you found out that the biggest reason you’re paying your bills was because of some man in his late thirties who watches your content like it’s the news.
but what if you were into that? he’s heard stories about girls thinking older men were attractive, were you that type?
“i’ve been good!” you replied, snapping him out of his flood of thoughts. “i’ve seen you around, i think you might be my biggest fan.” you winked.
leon’s heart was practically beating out of his chest, he knew you meant it like a compliment, but it felt like you were pointing out how much of a lonely loser he is. “i just wanted to say thank you, your donations really help.” you said with a smile, that same pretty smile that drove him crazy, the smile he adored.
he didn’t know what to say, if he wanted to, he could write a detailed essay about you and how much he admires obsesses over you.
‘you’re welcome.. i like to support you.’ he typed back, after hitting send, he squirmed. did that sound weird? staring at your face intensely as you read through the chat, you let out a small laugh. “thank you, kennedy.” you replied, looking back at the camera. seeing how full the stream was getting, he decided that this was the end of the conversation.
his chest felt fuzzy, a feeling he hadn’t had in years, a feeling he had completely forgotten about.
he was obsessed with you.
the stream continued smoothly, you teased the camera, showing off your body and tempting the men, like him, who watched. by now he needed to rub one out during your streams, who would he be if he didn’t?
the stream was coming to a close, but before you spoke. “oh! the surprise from earlier, i almost forgot.” you said with a small laugh as you leaned back against your chair.
“basically, i was thinking, why not have a little contest.” you said, smirking at the camera. “imagine this is an auction,” you said, “the highest bidder gets to have a private, on one, video call with me.” you said, looking at your camera. “who knows, maybe that call can lead to something else.” you hummed, winking at the camera as you slid your hand down your chest.
leon blinked, a call with you? it was a dream come true. the only thing this lonely man could ask for.
you continued on, opening a gift box for anyone who wanted to get a chance with you.
he ignored how this could lead to poor financial decisions, he needed that call. he needed you for himself, he needed you to address him — to talk to him, he needed your attention like a lost puppy.
the gift period was only open for about fifteen minutes, first come first serve type of thing.
luckily, unlike the other people in the stream, he’s a government agent. with that title comes money, so as a way to secure that call, he sent you thousands.
he watched as you read the screen, your eyes widening as you saw the notification come in that you had received a few thousand dollars from your shy admirer. “holy shit.” you gasped, “okay— we have a winner! we have skennedy001 that donated over a thousand dollars!” you said, stammering as surprise filled your bones. “i’m closing the bid, that’s way too much money!” you said, giggling as you shut the bid off.
the people in the chat were going crazy, some were taking the loss like losers while the others congratulated the mystery man.
not too long after the stream ended, leon shut his phone off and stared at it. a deep breath left his lips, he didn’t know what to expect after being called the winner, but when he got a notification someone had messaged him through the streaming app, he opened it.
what he didn’t expect was to have a message from you in his inbox.
‘hey, kennedy! omg, that donation was insane! i didn’t expect that much money, please let me give you some money back! i really don’t deserve that much!! :,,)) you’re so sweet, and i appreciate it sososo much!!’
leon stared at the screen, double-checking that it was really you that had contacted me, his face got hot, did he overdo it? was that too desperate? oh, definitely it was, but still.
running his fingers through his hair, he began to type back, trying to brainstorm what to say, but after a solid five minutes of debating his options, he finally replied.
‘hello, i’m glad you appreciated it, but no. it’s okay, you can keep all of it. that’s the reason i donated it. spoil yourself.’
he typed back, his icy blue eyes hyper focused on the screen, he watched as in the span of a few seconds a small text bubble popped up as three dots bounced around. you were replying.
‘aww! are you sure? like, a 100% sure? i’m just making sure!! i just don’t wanna feel like i’m stealing from you, or something LOL!’
your text was cute, lighthearted, and warm, you were so considerate. he liked that, and his thumbs began to type out a reply.
‘no, no. it’s okay, really. just enjoy yourself.’
he replied he was trying his best to not seem uninterested. he has been told many times before that he was very “dry texter” — he had been told how uninterested he sounded with his texting habits and how it could make someone want to stop replying, and he didn’t want that. he just wasn’t sure what to say.
‘omg i am so grateful for your kindness! i’ve seen you in my streams a lot, i have honestly wondered about you. i’m glad you won the bid, tbh i wanted you to win LOL it gave me a reason to talk to you!’
oh my god. leon’s eyes widened slightly at your text, you were bold, is this how it feels like to get butterflies? he blinked, how was he supposed to reply? he’s never texted a girl in her twenties, what do girls like? what will keep you interested?
‘oh, yeah?’ he replied, reverting back to his usual dry texts, but you were lively, you knew how to keep the conversation going.
the conversation was sweet and lengthy, you ended up suggesting you move to your instagram messages so she could talk to him more often.
leon’s heart was practically going to explode out of his chest, he was giddy yet nervous. you had told him that you guys could arrange the video call for the next day at night after you finish some college work.
he was stressed, leon wasn’t sure what to expect. he’s seen your pretty face, but you haven’t seen his. his instagram profile is of an old landscape photo he took a while back, what if the camera isn’t flattering for him? he did warn you that he was in his late thirties? he didn’t want you to get your hopes up for a younger man. maybe he should just keep his camera off.
nonetheless, that night, he went to sleep happier than he has been in a while.
≻ the next day, leon was practically counting down the hours, the minutes, the seconds, until he got to see you. in the morning, he had been excited — the people around him noted his giddy attitude, but when asked why, he didn’t say anything.
he couldn’t expose himself.
but as the clock ticked and the hours passed by, leon found himself much more nervous than he’s ever been. he doesn’t want to fuck this up, in his delusion. he thinks that if this goes well, maybe, just maybe, this could evolve to something more.
you were so sweet to him last night, but the more he thinks about it, perhaps it was flattery.
he hadn’t thought about it now, this might just be all an act. something to keep him wrapped around your pinky finger, but he decided to push those thoughts down so he wouldn’t spoil his night.
once he reached his place, leon was angsty, the sun was slowly going down. the sky was a beautiful mix of warm colors: orange, red, and yellow. he could also see a hint of blue mixed in as the night sky began to slowly settle.
entering his apartment, he slipped inside the door and shut it behind him. locking it, a person could never be too safe, right?
he kicked off his shoes and slipped off his jacket, he haphazardly threw his jacket on his sofa before he made his way over to his room. he plopped down onto his bed and slipped his phone and flask out of his back pocket. opening the flask, he raised the metal container up to his lips and took in a quick shot of whiskey.
he couldn’t go into this sober.
letting the flask rest on his lap, he opened his phone and opened instagram. he looked at the messages he had with you. oh, he forgot to reply to your last message a few hours ago. he pursed his lips, fuck he feels bad, leon wasn’t an avid texter, so it was easy for him to forget.
‘sorry for the late reply, i was working.’ he hit send before he could register how “dry” that sounded, he quickly scrambled to text a bit more, so he didn’t seem too boring. ‘i’m nervous for the call.’
why would he say that?
leon shut his eyes, he was really bad at this.
after a few minutes of leon anxiously waiting for your reply, a ping came from his phone. quickly looking down at the screen, he saw that you replied.
‘aww, don’t be nervous! i don’t bite, unless you want me to ;)’
he let out a breath at your words, it felt like you always knew what to say, the number of times you’ve said something sly during the conversation that had his chest fuzzy must be over ten in the span of twenty-four hours.
leon started to type back, but he stopped mid-sentence. he wasn’t sure what to say, he was fumbling over his words, and no sentence he tried to type up made sense.
he saw your text bubble pop up, you were typing.
‘what? did i make you nervous? ;p’ — yes, yes you did.
he felt like he was in his early twenties, stumbling and stammering when a pretty girl gave him attention. jesus, has it really been that long since he’s felt something like this? god, that’s so sad.
leon ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his dark hair back, ‘yes, i don’t know how to behave when a pretty girl is talking to me.’ now it was your turn to blush, leon leaned against his headboard as he stared at his phone.
‘ohhh? is mr. kennedy getting bold? ;)) i’m excited for the call, just give me one more hour ♡’
‘take your time.’
during that hour, leon decided to try and freshen up, at least a bit. he knew he wasn’t going to turn on his camera, but maybe getting refreshed would make him feel more confident in himself.
he changed out of his work clothes and took a quick shower, he slipped on some comfortable sweatpants and a black compression shirt that he typically used when he was working out. as he looked at himself in the mirror, he noticed the eye bags that hung under his eyes and the stubble that covered his cheeks and chin.
moving his hand up to his face, he ran his fingers through his stubble and sighed as he felt the facial hair scratching his skin. should he have shaved this morning? he didn’t know, he hadn’t been bare-faced in a few years now, as he aged the clean look he used to have didn’t fit him anymore.
reaching over for his flask that he had left on the bathroom counter, leon quickly took another swing of his flask and then sighed as he put it back on his counter.
he was so fucking nervous and for what? he’s been face to face with death before, he’s encouraged over thousands of zombies in his lifetime and yet he’s so nervous at the idea of talking to you.
feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, leon scrambled to take it out before looking down at his screen. it was you.
‘okay! i’m ready, are you? ;)’ — no, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be, but he replied, ‘yes. how does this work?’ he replied, unsure of what you were planning.
he watched as the text bubble popped up from your end as you typed again, ‘its suuuper easy! i’ll set up a voice chat and send you the link, then i’ll turn my camera on so you can see me!’ biting his bottom lip, leon moved out of the bathroom and sat down in his bed, his back resting against the headboard as he stared down at his phone.
‘okay, i’ll wait for you.’ he replied as he tried to relax, letting out a deep sigh, leon shut his eyes for a few seconds before he felt his phone buzz again.
looking back at the screen, you had sent him a link.
‘here it is! ;)’ the text said, his thumb hovered over the screen as he bit the inside of his cheek and hesitated before quickly tapping the link. the link opened up another website, the same one you use for streams. it took a few seconds for it to load, but he could tell his camera was off and his mic was muted.
okay, good.
eventually, the screen loaded and he saw you, you were wearing a cute tank top of a band, he’s seen the band name around before. it was popular back in the early 2000s, you didn’t have any sexy clothes on, it was actually cute. it made you feel even more real.
“hi!” you said as you waved at the camera, “let me know if the camera and audio are working properly, sometimes the app gives me issues,” you said with a smile as you stared at your screen. leon went to open the chat box, but he realized that if he wanted to make the most out of this call, talking to you would better.
taking in a deep breath, he cleared his throat and unmuted his microphone. “..it works,” he said, his face feeling hot as he spoke.
leon had always been rather charming and talkative in real life, so why was he so shy? it wasn’t anything like him, did his loneliness really ruin him? your eyes lit up when you heard his voice, surprised he spoke.
he watched as a smile curled on your lips, “i’m glad!” you said, leaning in closer, giving leon a full view of your cleavage, he noticed a black lace bra underneath your shirt. tilting your head to the side, you hummed, “soo..how was your day?” you asked curiously as you stared up at the camera with a small smirk. leon hated how quick it was for him to feel pressure growing in his pants when it came to you.
why was it so easy to get hard for you?
“it was good..you?” he asked softly, his hand slipping down his body to grip his cock through his pants. your smirk turned into a smile, “my day was good too! thank you for asking,” you hummed, “so, what do you want to do?” you asked, leaning back against your chair as you moved your hand to hold your tit, squeezing the mound playfully. “it’s just you and me, no need to be shy.” you winked.
leon squirmed in his bed, “..i don’t know actually,” he muttered, “i never got to decide how i wanted to approach this.” he said, squeezing his bulge and sighing. “..i wanted to just talk and get you know you more, but..” he trailed off, unsure if he should tell you that his cock was hard at the mere sight of you.
you seemed to get the hint when you heard the shaky breath that left his lips, “got too excited, didn’t you?” you teased, biting your bottom lip as you batted your eyelashes to the camera. “it’s okay, let me help you.” you offered, that pretty smirk of yours coming back to your lips.
leon’s eyebrows furrowed as he felt his cock throb inside his pants.
“..a-are you sure? i don’t want to ruin the call.” leon murmured, his voice uneven as he tried to resist the urge to slip his hand under his pants' waistband.
a small laugh left your lips as you shook your head, “of course not,” she said playfully, “you won this call, you get to choose whatever we do.” you said, “what’s your name?” you asked, moving to press your arms together to have them push up your tits.
leon let out a sigh and watched with a hazy look in his eyes as you pressed your chest together. “it’s leon.” he replied quickly, now eager to have you say his name.
humming, you smiled, “okay, leon. should i take off my shirt? i have a new pair of lingerie just for you.” that whole sentence could’ve made leon cum right there without any friction. the way you said his name, it was smooth, like honey. you were hot and you knew it, “y-yes, please.” leon mumbled out pathetically as he stared at his screen intensely.
you nodded and reached down for the bottom of your shirt, slowly pulling it up and discarding your shirt to the corner of your room. once your shirt was removed, leon got an eye full of your tits being held up by the new lingerie, it was a push up bra. your tits were rounded and plush, the black lace that surrounded the fabric was real pretty.
“do you like it?” you asked softly as you adjusted your bra strap, leon gulped and shuddered. “yeah, it’s pretty..it suits you.” leon said, you were so fucking hot. he wanted to jack off and cum right there, but that would just show how much of a pathetic man he is.
you only took off your shirt and leon came? embarrassing.
so, he edged himself. deciding to play it safe with palming himself through his pants. his hand moving slowly to not get too eager and fuck it up.
“you think so?” you mused, looking at the camera as your hands moved to squeeze your tits and push them closer. fondling yourself for his pleasure.
leon groaned and nodded, he knew his camera was off and that you couldn’t see it, but he couldn’t help it. “mhm, black suits you.” he said, shifting in his bed to adjust his position. “want me to take it off?” you asked curiously, looking at the camera with an amused smile. “i think my tits are pretty, it would only be fair for you to see.” you teased as you squeezed your mounds.
leon’s throat felt dry, he felt parched.
“yes,” leon shuddered out, looking down at the screen. you laughed and stood up, you adjusted your camera for it to catch your body as you stood. leon saw you were only wearing some cute little panties that brought out your ass.
turning around, your back faced the camera before you moved your hair out of the way and moved your hands to the clasps of your bra.
you were quick to unclip your bra and take it off, throwing it off to the side, to a place the camera can’t pick up. by where you threw your shirt, leon assumed. your movements were always so smooth, hypnotic almost. leon was convinced you were perfect, made with no flaws.
turning around, you held your tits up in your hands before you stepped closer and let your mounds drop. leon got a screen full of tits, you let out a laugh and moved your body in a slow sway, your tits moving around as you did so. “like ‘em?” you mused playfully before reaching up and squeezing your nipple.
leon’s head leaned back as a small groan left his lips, his hand moving down to grip his dick through his pants. “yes, fuck.” leon said with a pant.
you moved back from the camera and sat down onto your chair before adjusting the camera stand so leon could see you better.
“are you jerking off?” you asked, smirking at the lens, leon let out a small whine. “no, n-not yet.” he mumbled, his voice straining as he tried to sound level headed, but of course it didn’t work given how he stuttered. leon cursed at himself mentally, he sounds like a fucking pussy right now.
you let out a small laugh at his stutters, “what? you don’t wanna jerk off to me? you’re hurting my feelings.” you said softly as she tilted your head, leon’s eyes widened. oh shit, no, that’s not what he wanted to do.
“wait, shit—“ he tried to explain, “i didn’t mean it like that..i just want to savor the moment.” he said, shutting his eyes in embarrassment.
you smiled, “yeah? why not savor it while jerking off? i have my tits out just for you.” you teased, pouting as you did so. leon paused, you were right, your tits were out and you were willing to do anything for him and he was just edging himself?
a small groan left his lips, “yeah..okay.” he mumbled, his hand slipping under the waistband of his pants before he gripped his cock. his large hand wrapped around his shaft, his cock throbbing again due to the pressure, leon put his phone down and used his other hand to shimmy his pants down. once the waistband was wrapped around his knees, leon leaned back against the headboard and sighed as he gripped his dick.
reaching out for his phone, leon fumbled with it with one hand before finding the right position to hold it. unbeknownst to him, while he fumbled with the phone, he had pressed against the camera button.
his camera turned on and he had no idea.
you, on the other hand, were met with the sight of the mystery man that had been supporting you the most.
he was hot.
like really fucking hot, your interest on this man peaked after you saw his pretty face. he was resting his phone on his thigh was he held it up, you could see the stubble on his face, his dark black hair. he was older than you expected, but if anything it added to the appeal.
this man seemed to be seasoned, he was staring down at his phone with his eyebrows furrowed as a small sigh of bliss left his lips. he was jerking his cock, you noticed by the way his body moved, there was an arm that wasn’t getting picked up by the camera that worked on rubbing his cock raw.
you noticed how his icy blue eyes focused on you, staring at the screen of his phone with a lovesick look on his face.
he looked so pathetically hot, it wasn’t something you thought you’d find attractive, but seeing how desperate this older man was for you made you unbelievably horny. you squirmed in your seat before your hand slipped down, you moved and slipped your hand under the fabric of your panties. letting out a sigh, you felt your middle finger gently toy your clit.
“leon?” you mused, leaning your head back and spreading your legs for the camera to pick up how your hand was shoved under your panties. you reached over to your desk and grabbed a dildo, showing it to him. “wanna watch?” you offered, moving the silicone cock in a playful manner.
leon’s eyes widened in surprise, but nodded.
he gulped and you watched as his adam’s apple bopped up with the swallow.
leon watched as you slipped off your panties and grabbed a bottle of lube. you quickly coated your pretty pussy and dildo with the thick cream and leaned back once more.
your pussy was on full display as you pressed the tip of the dildo against your puffy folds. “ready?” you asked softly as you bit your bottom lip.
this whole scene that was unfolding in front of leon felt like it was going to kill him. he’s seen your pussy before, he’s seen you fuck yourself before, but there was something different this time. it was all dedicated to him.
only him.
“yes,” he shuddered as he gripped his cock tightly, you smiled at him and slowly slipped the dildo inside of you. a soft sigh left your lips as your warm pussy sucked in the silicone, leon watched eagerly. like a kid in a candy store, he would kill to be the one inside you.
your squirmed and rolled your hips against the dildo, looking into the camera as your free hand moved to grip your tit. “oh, leon.” you moaned out, smirking as you watched your screen to see his reaction. “you feel so good..” you teased.
leon’s eyes widened when he heard you moan out his name, were you pretending it was him fucking you? did you want to send his heart into cardiac arrest?
this cock throbbed against his hand, begging for attention, pleading for leon to let it cum.
leon’s balls were heavy with cum, it was unbearable to keep teasing, but he couldn’t help it.
a small whine left leon’s lips as he slowly stroked his cock, watching as you fucked yourself with your dildo. “you think so?” leon replied back, his face felt hot as he spoke, he’s never done dirty talk through the phone. he was embarrassed, was he doing it right?
you nodded, smiling hazily at the camera, “mhm..” you trailed off as a small gasp left your lips, the dildo focused on fucking your pussy. your eyes fluttered shut as you savored the filling feeling of your dildo, the silicone ridges and fake veins pressing and molding your walls. your pace was steady, your head leaning to the side as you continued.
leon was getting the perfect view of your pretty face and your stuffed cunt. he could hear the soft squelches coming from your cunt as it sucked the dildo back inside eagerly. he watched as your pussy glistened with slick, his body aching, he wanted to be there with you. he wanted to feel you.
but the world was cruel towards leon, and all he could do is watch and pretend he was the one fucking you.
“you’re so big.” you babbled softly, watching your computer screen, watching his reaction. he shuddered and trembled, moving on his cock slowly.
leon shut his eyes and grunted, his head leaning back desperately as his body ached. he occasionally looked back at the screen, looking at you with such admiration behind his gaze. like he was admiring a beautiful painting.
he was so cute.
“y-yeah,” he groaned, his body feeling hot, it was overwhelming. he felt the thinnest sheet of sweat coat his body, a swirling feeling coming to his lower tummy, it felt like a tight pressure. “—am i making you feel good?” he whispered out, his eyes shutting as his hand continued to jerk his cock.
each jerk felt like a rush of electricity went through his veins, an electric shockwave whose only purpose was to bring pleasure.
you moved your hand down and gently began to toy with your clit, pressing on the puffy bud as you fucked yourself. “no one has ever made me feel like this, leon.” you teased, moaning out his name softly. it was like music to his ears.
he couldn’t take it anymore, he physically couldn’t hold back, he should’ve gotten a cock ring to try and make him last longer.
“m’gonna cum, i’m sorry—“ he babbled, feeling bad for cumming so fast, he just didn’t have the self control he used to have on his prime. his hand began to jerk his cock in a fast, sloppy pace. his chest was rising and falling rather quickly, unable to catch his breath as he chased his orgasm.
leon moved his phone, he kept it by his lap, but by the position you could see his aching cock.
“it’s okay, baby.” you mumbled out, watching as he neared his orgasm. his dick was pretty, the size was okay, the thickness was there, and his tip was bright red. his hand gripped his shaft, he had pretty hands. large and masculine, you even saw an expensive watch wrapped around his wrist. you knew he had money, how else would he be sending you such high donations, but something in your stomach fluttered when you noticed.
you continued to fuck your dildo into your pussy, trying to match his sloppy pace. “cum for me.” you hummed, your tone playful and laced with lust.
this was so hot.
leon shuddered and moaned, his hand continued to rub his cock raw, he clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tightly as he focused on cumming.
the pressure in his lower belly was so tight, but after a couple of more harsh jerks, the tight knot inside his stomach burst. his balls strained and tightened as cum began to spurt out of his tip. it was thick and milky, staining leon’s stomach and hand.
while he came, leon’s body trembled, his toes curled, and his back arched slightly as a loud moan left his lips. he didn’t mean to moan out like that, but with the circumstances he couldn’t help it. this was pure bliss, his body felt lighter and his head felt fuzzy. he continued to slowly stroke his cock as it throbbed, he rode out his orgasm, his cum still spewing out of his cock for a few more seconds before his body relaxed.
leon shuddered as his cock began to go soft in his hand, he grimaced as he looked at the cum that stained his hand before wiping it off against his sweats.
panting, leon looked back at his phone, his face was red and his whole body was hot.
“shit, i’m sorry, i wanted to wait for you.” leon said breathlessly, you shut your eyes and continued to toy with your clit as you shook your head. “don’t apologize, it was really hot.” you moaned out, fluttering your eyes open as you looked at the monitor, eyeing him up as he laid back panting.
your clit was puffy and slick, aching for more.
rolling your hips up, your hands continue to work against your cunt, making your legs twitch and tremble. putting on a show for the lonely man in front of you.
biting the inside of his cheek, leon watched desperately, if he was younger he probably would’ve gotten hard again as he watched, but his cock didn’t have enough strength to stand. it didn’t matter, now leon could finally appreciate you, your pretty face, your pretty body, and your pretty pussy.
he loved the faces you made, they were so genuine.
if he was fucking you, would you be making those faces too? god he hoped so.
by now, a specific heat blossomed by your clit as your finger toyed with it. your touch was gentle and light, it felt like your clit was burning in the hottest way as the nerves went on overdrive.
“fuck, fuck, fuck—“ you whined, your voice strained as you focused on breaking the tight knot inside your lower tummy.
leon shuddered, seeing the way your eyebrows furrowed as you bit your bottom lip, you were so cute. leon wanted to say something, but it was like his brain was a blank slate. he couldn’t think, he couldn’t speak, he just watched as your glistening pussy throb.
it didn’t take long for the knot to snap, and once it did, your body jolted as a loud whine of his name left your lips. your thighs clamped together while your hand stayed pressed between your legs, the silicone cock was nestled nicely inside you, warm and sticky.
your body trembled as you panted, your head leaning back against the seat as you regained your thoughts.
god.
leon has seen you cum various times before, sure, but there’s something so different about it here. it was mind boggling and his head felt dizzy, a shiver going down his spine.
this was all a private show, all of this was only for him. no one else was as lucky as he was, he felt like he was getting spoiled.
watching you unravel and cry out his name had leon’s brain oozing, he felt demented, like his brain had melted and he was left as a zombie. he could tilt his head over right now and watch as his melted brain would come spilling out.
metaphorically, of course.
you reveled in the afterglow of your climax, your pussy felt like it was pulsating and throbbing. slowly, your hazy gaze focused back on the screen and you locked eyes with leon.
he let out a breath as he looked at you, it felt like you were really looking into his eyes.
he still had no idea his camera was on and you could see how enamored he looked.
slowly, with a long, soft squelch, you pulled the dildo out of your sticky pussy. you moved the silicone up to your lips and leaned in closer to the camera before you licked off the slick that coated the toy.
your tongue moved slowly, and occasionally you would glance at the camera, making eye contact with him as you cleaned up your dildo and the only thing that ran through leon’s head as he watched was: i wish that was me.
squirming, leon felt like his mouth was salivating at the sight.
eventually, you finished licking off your dildo before you placed a gentle kiss on its head before you put it away, hidden away from what the camera could pick up. “liked that?” you mused, tilting your head to the side with a cute little smile. it was almost funny how cute you looked after you fucked yourself in front of him.
“yeah.” leon said quickly, gulping back saliva as he looked at you so dearly, “um,” he began, clearing his throat awkwardly, “..is it okay to talk more? if you have the time.” leon mumbled, because deep down, he still wanted to talk to you — to carry a conversation with you, to try and charm you.
looking at the time displayed on your monitor, you hummed, drawing it out to tease him slightly. after a few seconds that felt like an eternity for leon, you looked back at the camera and nodded. “of course, i have time.” you said, winking at the camera before you stood up and slipped your panties on. you left the chair for a second before you picked up your band shirt off the floor and slipped it on.
plopping back down on the chair, you smiled and looked back at the camera.
“so, tell me more about you, leon.”
≻ the call ended not too long ago, leon rested his phone down on his bed as he let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead. his chest felt fuzzy and he felt giddy.
the two of you had spoke for a few hours and now that the call ended, leon yearned to hear your voice again.
he felt silly like this, but he couldn’t help it.
he missed your voice, your face, the way you moved your hands when you spoke, the small gestures you made when you talked about something you were passionate about.
he missed you.
reaching over for his flask, leon quickly popped it open and took another long swig. swallowing back his beloved whiskey like he was a dehydrated man drinking water, throughout the call, he hadn’t drank to try and not get drunk and ruin the moment. but now that the call ended and he had time, leon was happily swallowing back the whiskey.
hearing his phone buzz against his bed sheets, he reached out for it quickly, a swirl of excitement coming to him as he saw it was you that texted.
it was two attachments, a photo of your perky tits and another one of your computer screen — that’s where he saw it. he was on the screen.
the photo you had taken was when he had his phone down, getting a good angle of his side profile from the bottom. for the eyes of someone else, it was a good picture and he looked good. his hair was messy in just the right way, his adam’s apple was on display and given the fact his phone was down, the picture also captured his waist, chest, and shoulders. showing off his body underneath the shirt he wore.
it was a good photo, but leon’s heart dropped to the floor when he saw it.
had his camera been on the whole time? is that why there was a small red dot next to his selfie camera? clicking out of the photos, he read your text nervously, but after reading it, his face flushed.
taking back another swing of his flask, he shuddered.
‘you looked really good today ;)) wanna call again tomorrow? <3’
╰ TAGS: @gor3-hound @rigorwhoring @nilpill @ottermarbles @argreion @angelstargel @lysa1201-saucy @dilfsmaid @sweets3rial @doja-rat16 @bababsthings @frillyyyy @nyxxoxo @admirxation @gcldtom @ashrillvenheim @seraphicsuicides @altissia-09 @ghostier0t @biohazard-4ever @leonsgirl-111 @th3lma @squazmine @dakotali @neverg0nnagivey0uup @brblnc @emodanoriddler @v1ccc @dear-satan @skydisneylover @calansic @acidaciruela @vkurtmien @shiawaseorii @fxnfandxmmp4 @valentin78pon @antagonize-me-motherfucker
#( 𝑣𝑚𝑝. ) 𝑔𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑐 、、#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy x you#resident evil#leon vendetta#resident evil x you#resident evil x reader#x reader#resident evil smut
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
a dip — l.cy
⌗ pairing. . . anton lee x male reader
⌗ genre. . . smut
⌗ summary. . . you went with your fuck buddy to the pool… that was your first mistake.
⌗ includes. . . sub!reader, fwb!swimmer!anton, semi-public sex (pls don't esp not this one), unprotected sex (also don't),
⌗ wc. 2.5k
°A/N. . . sorta requested but also not really,, also not proofread nor very pretty or as descriptive as i like to be im so sorry this is just what you get when im horny bc these pictures ruined my life
you knew much better than to agree to joining anton lee at the pool of all places.
being a lifetime friend (occasionally with benefits) of his, you knew the swimmer could spend hours upon hours at the pool and not feel an ounce of exhaustion. he'd often convince you to stay long after you finished swimming yourself, just to wait for him to complete his cool down routine before driving you home.
the worst thing of all, though, was that you were constantly reminded just how much he had hidden underneath those oversized sweaters and jeans that he always wore. behind that whole shy boy aesthetic he had going on, was the physique of what you could only compare to a greek god, and even he knew it.
you never got used to it - seeing anton's chiseled body exposed in the aquatic habitat that felt like a second home to him. no matter how sweet his smile or how loud his laugh, nothing could distract you from drooling over a body like that cutting through the water with such ease. it was even worse because the sweet boy knew exactly what he did to you.
he tried to cut you some slack, though, respecting your effort to seem unbothered every time he'd peel his layers of clothing off before jumping into the pool, wearing nothing but his tight blue swim trunks that suffocated his muscular thighs.
one time he even pretended not to notice how you were so worked up that you had to go not-so-subtly get yourself off in the community bathroom.
in your defense, it was a heated indoor pool, and at the time he had completely annihilated you in a race. that proud smirk paired with the steam rising from his rippling back muscles had you biting back moans from the sight alone.
so naturally, it was to no one's surprise once things turned physical between you both.
the adrenaline that swimming gave anton put him on cloud nine, and being the stubborn ass that you were, you were determined to somehow beat this pro swimmer in a race - only for it to end with you losing miserably and somehow hornier than when you started. things would always end one way or another, a taunting comment directed at you leading to his bare back pressed against the cool tile walls of the changing room while you yanked his shorts low enough to take his throbbing cock into your mouth.
but today you were going to be good.
you hadn't hooked up with anton for a while, and were truly only tagging along because he needed a friend to time his laps for the upcoming season.
however, it'd be a lie to say you didn't have to give yourself a prep talk as you set your things down on the pool chairs, noticing nobody was there tonight. it was business as usual, though. anton always convinced the coach to let him have later access while the rest of the team went home so he could focus. you just found it harder to control yourself around him when left alone like this, but tonight you had a new type of dedication to simply swim, help your friend, and go home.
besides, why would it be so difficult for you to keep it in your pants for just one night?
‘oh, thats why.’ you groaned internally as you watched anton strip his shirt from over his head.
fuck, had he been bulking up?
you pretend not to notice how his biceps flex as he runs a hand through his shaggy brown hair while you stripped down to your swim trunks as well. god, his skin was practically glowing even from the dingy indoor lighting.
your head whipped around back towards his direction when you heard a low hiss, watching his face scrunch slightly as he stepped down the pool's ladder. your dick twitched a bit at the sight of his furrowing brows and low groan as he sunk deeper into the water, but you mentally slapped yourself back to reality.
"what's with you?" you questioned approaching the steps, getting ready to enter as well.
"i forgot to remind coach to turn the heaters on tonight," he responded. "shit, its freezing."
you thought he was being dramatic, but the chilly water indeed bit back when you lowered your ankles in. you decided against submerging for now, simply swirling your legs in circles while you spun anton's stopwatch in your hand.
anton began a quick warm up, stretching and dunking himself under water several times and adjusting quickly to the temperature. his wet hair splaying out around his face made him even more gorgeous than he already was, and you felt your cheeks gain a sickening warmth.
"alright bro, let's get started." you cleared your throat, speaking up to hurry the process along before your resolve crumbled.
"sure, bro." he mocked before sending a wink your way. shit, he was already on to you.
anton held eye contact with you as he hoisted himself out of the water to walk over to the swim lanes, causing your breath to silently falter. your instincts made you the first to break contact though, as your eyes followed the droplets that slid down his broad chest. they each trailed down past his perked nipples, over his abs that you could never steal long enough glances at, and eventually disappear into his waistband before leading to — that.
to say the least, anton was generously endowed when it came to the size in the south. the ‘quiet man with a fat cock’ stereotype was only proven true with him, if the way you struggled to fit all of him in your mouth was anything to go by.
anytime anton wore those small trunks or, god forbid, the uniform speedo during his meets - it was impossible to tear your eyes away from how the soaking cloth material clung around his massive length when he emerged from the water.
and boy was he massive. that was a fact you could never forget but somehow still surprised you each time to this day.
you were such a pervert. and he loved it so much.
only 30 minutes into his laps you found yourself desperately missing the shy boy act that he would put on for every body else. once he was in athlete mode, the confidence in his demeanor made your self control fly out the window. it didn't make sense how someone as massive as him could practically fly through the water, flexing every inch of his muscle like it was nothing.
it forced you to reminisce on how he was in bed, constantly taking you with his immense stamina. he could toss and turn you in any way at any given pace, making you see stars like it was nothing — even when you were the one to start things, he made sure to finish them. you remembered the way his biceps would tighten and ripple in your grasp, holding on for dear life as you begged for him to thrust into you harder or squeeze you tighter. you missed the sore feeling those big hands of his would leave on your hips and thighs.
get it together, y/n.
if you had a dollar for every time you had to yank yourself out of the gutter in just the span of one hour, you'd be rich enough to drop out of school entirely.
you had allowed yourself to sit calf-deep in the water at the end of the racing lane, but it wasn't until he reached you after knocking out 3 laps in a row that you regretted your decision. he emerged from the water with a big splash, throwing his head back and letting out the most erotic sigh you could imagine as he finally let air reach his lungs.
a lump formed in your throat, watching anton's buff chest rise and fall in tune with his breaths while both long arms gripped the edge of the pool on either side of your legs.
"what was my time for those?" the swimmer finally asked you once he had stabilized his breathing.
"oh! right, uhm...." you snap out of your trance, gut dropping when you looked down to the stop watching still ticking in your hand.
"you forgot to stop it, didn't you?" anton asked, a tone of more amusement rather than annoyance seeping through his smirk. "don't tell me you got distracted?"
"fuck, i'm sorry." you groaned, annoyed with your own sexual frustration overtaking your ability to play it cool.
"it's fine." anton shrugged, pulling his body out of the water and plopping on to the ledge next you, making you flinch as copious amounts of water splashed around the concrete. "just let me fuck you."
your eyes widened, damn near choking on the breath you gasped in. when you looked up to see his mischievous eyes, you swore you felt him leaning closer.
"what the fuck, ton?" you exhaled, slightly punching his arm, savoring the split second of contact you made with his warm skin.
"god, its been like a month, y/n. i can't focus on conditioning and you can't even click a button for me, clearly." anton chuckled. "lets just do it so i can have a good season. you know you’re my charm.” he teased, gently nudging you back with his elbow.
you couldn't believe the causality he was saying all of this with. but he did always call you his good luck charm, somehow managing to break his own personal record anytime you'd let him hit the night before or suck you off right before a meet, swallowing your cum like it was his own lewd type of protein shake.
it would also be a lie to an insane degree to say you didn't miss the way his soft skin felt gliding along yours whenever he would grind into you, his huge hands giving you a sense of stability in the way he would hold you down.
anton could tell from the way you were shamelessly biting your lip that you were thinking about it. he took the initiative to push your shoulders down until your back was flat against the concrete.
he had barely let you utter out a desperate "okay" before he was rolling over on top of you, not hesitating for a second to drop his hips directly over yours so you could feel how hard his thick bulge had already gotten. you moaned aloud, hips immediately bucking up to meet his as he lowered his head to your neck, feathering wet kisses along your column.
the water dripping from his body was cold, but the warmth of his torso easily overcame it all when you needily reached out to pull the entirety of his weight onto you. you didn't realize how much you missed the rippling of his shoulder blades beneath your palms until you felt his body rolling in perfect tune with yours. you ran your shaky hands all over his chiseled back as you felt his hardened nipples brush against yours, and while you hopelessly wanted more you also didn't want this feeling to end.
you felt a little pitiful, just sitting there allowing yourself to moan in pure bliss as your wet bodies press into each other, gripping anton's wide shoulders as his kisses picked up in heat. he was sucking hickeys into the sweet spot of your neck while his swim trunks tightened more and more as he humped against you, making you dizzier by the second.
"you sound so fucking hot whimpering for me like that." he moaned, licking a long trail up your neck to your jaw.
you didn't have any time to respond before he was pulling you into a searing kiss, his plump lips sloppily devouring yours while groaning into your mouth. you remembered how much you loved the way he tasted, and silently cursed at yourself for going this long without him.
when your lungs began needing air, you broke apart to moan out his name, just for him to grab your jaw and bring you back in for an even more overwhelming kiss. he was taking over every sense you had, filling your entire consciousness with nothing but thoughts of him. your hips bucked up incessantly, your body begging for him since your mouth couldn’t.
the hard concrete beneath you was starting to cause your limbs to ache as anton's mass pressed deeper into you, and he seemed to have read your mind, because before you knew it he was lifting himself up and dragging you into the water.
your mind was much too hazy to even register the vast difference in temperature, especially when you were clinging to anton like you needed him to breathe. it was as if something had taken over you and put you in the passenger seat of your own movements - all you could feel yourself doing was mumbling endless pleas for him to fuck you before pulling him in to reconnect your lips.
you could feel anton's shit eating grin against your lips as he backed you up against the ledge, slightly lifting his leg against the pool wall in order to guide you grinding your clothed cock against his thigh. he took advantage of your loud moan to suck on your tongue, loving the way your fingers curled into his wet hair.
there was only so much you could handle before you were reaching below the water to pull your own swim trunks off, deciding that if anton didn't fuck you right then you might actually explode. anton helped you discard the shorts and send them flying somewhere atop of the water. the second you were free, you felt your cock on his abs, causing your hips to take action and grind against the muscle before you could even think about what you were doing.
some combined variant of a choked laugh and moan left anton’s throat as he watched you throw your head back, obsessed with the way you were using his body to chase the pleasure you craved. he decided that he had his fun, slipping free from his trunks as well and lining himself up against you.
"deep breaths, baby." anton whispered, trying to sound confident but the words coming out as a tremble. you would normally laugh at how it almost sounded like he were advising himself, but you were too far gone.
when he finally bottomed out in you, his size and the pressure of the water had your mind in a different realm. you clung to anton's round shoulders as he held you securely, giving you time to adjust after not having him in you for a month.
"this little ass still so tight and ready for me, i knew you missed me." he sighed out, giving you small experimenting rolls of his hips.
when you gripped him tighter and started fucking yourself on his cock, he knew he was in the clear to send you to oblivion, and thats exactly what he did.
between the desperation in anton’s thrusting and the feeling of your member rubbing along his built torso, it didn't take much for either of you to approach your highs rapidly. you were soon announcing them to each other while you clung your slippery bodies tight together, the once still water around you turning into nothing less of a tsunami.
"'m cumming, ton." you cried out, just for him to groan deeply in agreement.
he held the back of your neck, pushing your head down to make eye contact with him as you both reached your climaxes at the same time, an oddly intimate feeling settling over you in the moment and making your skin buzz.
panting against each other's faces, anton leaned in to claim your lips once more before you were both giggling like a couple of fools, padding your hands around the water as you brought yourselves down to earth.
it took a couple of moments for you to gasp horrendously at the realization of what you both just did, looking to anton with so much terror etched in your eyebrows that he couldn't help but laugh.
"did we just- the school's pool- we-" you sputtered aimlessly, only stopping once anton's hand emerged from the water to cover your mouth.
"don't worry about it, coach will handle it. he won't mind, because after that i'm about to bring this school three new medals."
© 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐧𝐬 — all rights reserved
#anton x reader#kpop x male reader#riize x male reader#riize x reader#anton smut#riize smut#kpop smut#kpop fanfic#riize hard hours#riize hard thoughts#kpop hard thoughts#male reader smut#kpop male reader#riize fanfic
799 notes
·
View notes
Text
SAY YOU'RE MINE—GOJO SATORU.
✎.You shouldn’t elicit his attention more than any other Omega at the party—he doesn’t remember inviting that many—but he’s wondering how he let you slip by. | wc. 1.4k+
tags. fem!reader, age-gap, very shy reader, exhibitionism, reader wears glasses, a/b/o, 18+ only
masterlist
The big, awful truth nobody tells you about hosting your fortieth birthday is how the shine of the day wears off once you see your friends and acquaintances laughing with their loved ones, talking about their kids, showing off pictures of newborns swaddled in soft linens, and making plans for upcoming holidays.
Gojo sips his drink, pretending to understand. He’s never given much thought to settling down, to take an omega as a mate and fill his big empty house with the sounds of pealing laughter and little feet racing down the many halls.
Forty years old, and he’s ready to admit that living the life of a bachelor doesn’t hold the same appeal as it once did. That returning from a two-week-long business trip might be better if there were somebody to go home to.
Forty years old.
Instead of cozying up in the living room with a family he longs to have, he’s going to spend the rest of his night picking up plates and champagne flutes after everyone leaves because he forgot to hire a cleaning company—all alone in his big empty house, wondering if his secretary remembered to pick up his dry-cleaning for the week.
An unmated Alpha—the reminder chafes as much as the fact he’s getting older.
He finally understands why his late aunt divorced and got married again twice in the same year, why people buy nice vacation homes on white sandy beaches that make the crow’s feet around their eyes worse, and spend too much money on sports cars even though they stay parked for three-fourths of the year. He gets it now.
It’s more or less an epiphany of a sad, pathetic truth that he swallows down with something cold and bitter.
In the middle of his backyard, standing between his neighbor and his pregnant wife, Gojo wishes he were anywhere else. Inviting everyone he knows within driving distance no longer seems like the well-thought idea he’d presumed it’d been.
He makes a few more rounds around the garden before sneaking inside, escaping another conversation about engagements and wedding dates to hide away in his study.
That’s until he sees you out of the corner of his eye, looking through the bookcases in his living room.
A pretty slip of a girl in your modest cocktail dress and wide-framed glasses slipping down the slope of your nose. An Omega, alone, just like him; your clean, sweet, floral scent sticking to the back of his throat like syrup until it settles in his stomach. Enough to make him dizzy.
You shouldn’t elicit his attention more than any other Omega at the party—he doesn’t remember inviting that many—but he’s wondering how he let you slip by. Not that it really matters because his back straightens, no longer wallowing in self-pity, and he studies you with interest.
After a few moments, you finally glance his way, only for you to hastily return your attention to the book you pulled down from the shelf. Cute.
Gojo adjusts the tie around his neck and feels his lips twitch.
“Sorry,” you say softly, long lashes fluttering against the top of your cheeks. “I didn’t mean—I was only—My friend invited me, and she—”
You are too busy working yourself up over an explanation that you don’t notice when he sidles up next to you and reads over your shoulder. "I have more in my office if you want to take a look.”
“E-excuse me?” You make this breathy, choked sound and peer up at him from under your lashes. This visibly timid type of girl who bashfully looks away at the sight of his smile. For some reason, that makes his mouth go dry—makes his teeth ache.
It’s rare to be so driven by instinct and rarer to actually listen to that instinct.
“Books,” he says. “Do you want to see them?”
His words take a second to sink in, and he smiles when he sees liquid clarity in your eyes. You blink owlishly, scent spiking, pleased. He stands there patiently, finding how you start rambling endearing, a slight, private grin splitting across his face—silently amused.
He thinks you'd bolt if it weren’t for the fact that he’s probably standing much too close, trapping a mouse by the tail.
“I–I g-guess,” you finally stutter.
It’s too easy: You letting him usher you up the stairs toward his office.
If Gojo were a better person, a less lonely Alpha—a better man—he might feel bad for how well it works.
It’s no small thing to work the tiny zipper at your back and watch your dress pool around your feet. He barely gets the top three buttons of his shirt undone before you are—delightfully, inexplicably—up on the tips of your toes, timidly pushing your hands through his hair, mewling into the hollow of his throat, close to where his gland sits.
By the time he has you pressed against his office window, you’re this flustered little mess with crooked glasses, fingers streaking the once pristine glass to keep your balance, and breasts sticky and wet with spit.
“Good girl,” he mutters, pulling back to look down at where he’s splitting you open. “Such a good little Omega for me, aren’t you?”
You don’t answer, and he crowds you closer to the window, grasping your chin and tugging your head up until you’re looking at him upside down. He squeezes your cheeks together, your pouty, supple lips pushed out, and kisses your mouth, tasting you—unimaginably sweet.
“Tell me—tell me what a good girl you are,” even though he knows you can’t with his fingers pressing into your cheeks, but you try anyway.
“U-uh but—people c-can see.”
The base of his cock tingles as he catches a line of drool spilling from the corner of your lips. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, soothing, and you steadily melt against him when he slips that same finger underneath the elastic of your underwear, lightly nudging your clit with the tip of his finger until you’re shivering beautifully again.
“That’s it. Don’t worry about them,” he coaxes lightly, but it comes out muffled because he says it with his mouth wrapped around the gland at the base of your neck, teasing himself with something he’s never allowed himself to have. Not yet. “Just you and me, okay?”
Gojo doesn’t let up until your back arches and shoulders tighten, his knot caught inside your cunt until all he can do is grind the tip of his cock against that spot that makes you squirm and whine.
He smiles to himself when you hide behind your hands after realizing you ruined his pants, and he carefully falls back into his office chair, pulling you with him so you’re both looking out across the garden, where his guests walk around wholly unaware of the breathtaking little Omega who made his birthday worthwhile.
“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he muses, taking great pleasure in the way you start stuttering again.
On his forty-first birthday, he doesn’t throw his own party but still hides in his office, his pretty wife in his lap, flustered because he never turned the lights off this time. If anyone happened to walk by on this side of the house, they’d be able to see everything—his omega, soft and swollen from a piece of him taking root inside you.
Families are about making traditions, he thinks, and he’d like to start a few traditions of his own; leaving his party to fuck his wife in the quiet of his office being one of them.
#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#gojo satoru smut#gojo imagine#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#jjk drabbles#jjk x you#jjk fic#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#.things i write
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Slide - The Series [Masterlist]
Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader
Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?.
Type: Drabble Series
Summary:
"I can see the pain in your eyes I don't wanna say that I'm God, but I'll take you to heaven if you die"
Alternatively,
You would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timeline.
Warnings: extreme angst, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of depression, so much pining, unrequited love au, NSFW!!
Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics
Minors do not interact!!
Masterlist | Patreon (For early access)
A/N: here is the masterlist. the story is gonna to back to the past and then come back to the present. hence, I have classified it. Hope it makes things easy to understand. also, this is gonna be very fragmented. I will not go into detailing much - as in the details of their jobs, family and stuff like that. this story will mainly revolve around Yoongi and reader's feelings towards each other and their bad decisions. That's all. AND please tell me if I have missed anyone's name in the taglist despite being requested. thanks <3
Taglist requests are closed for now
One time for the present ~
1. Slide - The Beginning
You would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timeline.
2. Slide - The Ultimate Decision
Worst decisions are always driven by anger and alcohol; but sometimes those are also driven by Love.
3. Slide - The Other Side
No matter how much Yoongi had been trying to compile his focus and pour it all on Gyuri, his mind kept reeling back to you.
4. Slide - The Consequence
You are no different than the cigarette between his lips - half-burnt and waiting to be turned into ashes bit by bit with time.
5. Slide - The Dream
You have been so selfish and as a result - you get punished.
6. Slide - The Regret
For the first time in his 31 years of life - Min Yoongi is regretting. And the reason behind his regret circles around you.
7. Slide - The Trial
You have some questions and Yoongi has no answer.
8. Slide - The Vacation
Yoongi finally finds an answer to all of his questions.
9. Slide - The Realization
Yoongi dreams of you... dreams of a family with you.
10. Slide - The Reconciliation
“There was never a time when I wasn’t yours.”
11. Slide - The Finale
Tonight when he kisses you, it’s not a goodbye, rather it’s a promise of forever.
Two times for the past ~
1. Slide - The Prequel
You would never think twice before picking Yoongi up from streets even if it means losing your own sanity in return.
2. Slide - That Night
You would give yourself up willingly again and again if it means Yoongi will stay close to you. for whatever purpose.
Special Chapters ~
1. Slide - The Christmas Gift [Meant for Patreon only]
The third Christmas with Yoongi turns out to be something unexpected.
Permanent Taglist:
@phenomenalgirl9 @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @purpleanchorcrown @armystay89
Requested Tags:
@ktownshizzle @ilys00ga @marihoneywk @yoongisoftface @sugaslittlekookies @joonwater @geminiml95 @ramicherie @wobblewobble822 @amarawayne @avawants2havefun @artemisdoe @jimintaemin @cuntessaiii
#bts angst#yoongi angst#suga angst#bts smut#yoongi smut#suga smut#bts x reader#yoongi x reader#suga x reader#bts x you#yoongi x you#suga x you#bts fanfiction#yoongi fanfic#yoongi scenarios#yoongi imagine#bts imagines#bts yoongi#bts suga#bts
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Jungkook
𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖑 𝕭𝖔𝖓𝖉𝖘 [Teaser]
It doesn't matter how heavy the crown one wears might be- if it's made out of lies, it's worth nothing.
Tags/Warnings: Medieval AU, Alpha!Jungkook, Omega!Reader, Angst, Fluff, Adult Themes (such as smut, Violence and blood)
Type: Oneshot
Wordcount: long. Very long actually considering what I usually write.
A/N: This fic was actually written prior to moonlit, and the draft is available on patreon. But I could never really let go of it, so I'm finishing it these days.
Note: this is a 'sister-fic' to another work called Moon Of Claiming, which has similar themes and world building, but different plot. The draft for that is also available on patreon, and I'm planning on publishing that one after this one. Both fics will be Early Access there.
⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅
The goal is clear.
His prize is right in front of him, your body held by silver chains, your eyes still shining like two polished gemstones with tears of pain and fear, as you’re forced to watch whatever might happen.
But your tears are unnecessary. Jungkook doesn’t even think about failing.
All that he can think about is the way that silver metal is burning your skin, how that is the only thing holding you back, weakening your body so much so that you’re unable to even move anymore. He can’t stand the sight of them keeping you close like this, far away from his reach, even though everyone around, wolfblood or not, knows that you’re his. Not just chosen by him, but chosen by the moon herself, born to become his mate. And yet, he’s being challenged.
A joke, really. That is what this is to him.
“She’s got stamina, doesn’t she?” his opponent claims, already convinced that he will win this chase- most likely with the help of the same foul tricks he used to get into his position in the first place. “it’ll be easy to catch her.”
Jungkook stays silent. Because deep down he knows- he’s right.
You’ll be weakened, not only by silver and wolfsbane- but also from fear, from being alone, left to run through the woods in search of anything that could become safety. And in a state such as that, you’ll most likely be completely unable to differentiate between friend and enemy- you’ll just take whatever you can get, even if that alpha isn’t him.
But he will find you first. He knows he has to.
Tonight they may take you away from him- keep you from him, but tomorrow, when the moon sits high in the skies to watch over him and witness the whole thing unfold, he’ll get you back. Tomorrow he will prove it to all that some things are not just pure chance- that your bond is more than just luck on his side, and that your choice was always written in the stars.
Tomorrow it’s time to show the fake king how much power he really holds.
#bts imagine#bts fanfic#bts fic#jungkook imagine#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook imagine#bts jungkook imagine#hybrid imagine#bts smut#bts jungkook fanfic#werewolf jungkook#alpha jungkook
869 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can you do the boys with a mentally unwell reader? Like she has depression, ocd, or anxiety that she takes medication for?
S/O Who Faces Mental Illness- The Love And DeepSpace Men
parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader tags: ( for all ) mentioning of depression/ depressive episodes, ocd rituals, anxiety/ social anxiety a/n: hi anonnie ! ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ sorry this took awhile, this was sitting in my drafts and i would keep coming back to it. i just wanted to make sure this topic is handled with care. i know that everyone has different types of depression, anxiety, and ocd so i wrote the ones that i'm familar with and gone through. i hope this was okay lmk ! ̤̮
⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆
Xavier:
Xavier has always been such an attentive lover to you and he’s grown increasingly worried as he observed your unhealthy habits. He notices how you spend more time in bed than usual, longer than he would stay in bed. How you seem disinterested in eating, even if it were foods you typically enjoyed. Noticing how these impacts have affected you, he has made the effort to educate himself better on what you’re going through to understand and support you better.
If you were taking any medications, he'll read the entire packet that came with it or look up as much information he can online. He'll try to remember all the side effects that comes with it and makes sure to check up on you whenever you take them.
He notices when your energy plummets so it’s his duty to take care of you. He tries to make everything easy for you. He’ll make sure to tuck both of you in bed, turning off the lights when you both get ready, making sure to have food delivered when you wake up. Xavier encourages you to take a walk outside with him, helping you get some fresh air and encouraging you to step out of bed. He’ll hold your hand the entire time.
Distractions were one of the ways he could get your mind off any anxious thoughts or from any of your OCD rituals. He'll have a list of your favorite things to do and see if it helps. He'll stay with you in bed all day if that's what you need and wouldn't let you isolate yourself. Will also build a fort to cuddle you up in and have you tucked in his arms.
Anytime you two were out and you started to feel drained, then he'll take you back home. You two can stay in and cuddle.
He never pushes you beyond your comfort levels. If there was any situation where you started to feel uncomfortable, then he'll lead the situation and you somewhere else that sets you more at ease.
Zayne:
Zayne is no stranger to the topics of mental illness. He’s gone through extensive studies and many clinical experiences with patients. But with you, it's different. Your struggles aren’t just a clinical case to him, they’re personal. He’s acutely attuned to subtle changes of your mood and actions. He notices the quiet shifts in your expressions, or the way your eyes dull and lose their sparkle. Even though it’s hard to read through his expressions, it truly does hurt him to see you suffer. Your internal pain that you battle inside hurts him more than words can convey.
If you were to go through a depressive episode and you feel like you can’t do everything you need, then Zayne has no problem doing the extra housework or helping you with your physical health. He would reassure you to not feel guilty even though he’s busy with his work or any paperwork's. You have done so much as a loving partner to him and he will always return the favor for you.
He’ll help you shower and dress you up. He'll make sure to brush your hair gently and that you brush your teeth. He’ll even make sure you eat enough and he’ll praise you for taking every bites.
He’s always there for you. Even if he was in the middle of work, he would remind you to never hesitate to reach out whenever you feel isolated or just needed to vent, anything. Spam him, leave voice messages- he’ll read every word and listen to each message and reply with care. No matter how busy he might be, he’ll find a way to call you as soon as he can. He wants to make sure you’re okay and to remind you that you’re never alone, even when he’s away. Your well-being matters so deeply to him that he’s committed to be there for you in every possible way.
He'll keep note of all the side effects you've experienced with your medications, so he's aware of the potential issues that might arise when you take them. Will send you texts reminding you to take your meds at the right time and to make sure you eat before you take them so you don’t get nauseous.
He’s a very attentive and caring partner, he pays close attention to the triggers of your OCD and observes the coping mechanisms you have. He notices your struggle with hand washing compulsions and understands how these rituals can take a toll on you. He’ll try to help you by pointing out that excessive hand washing can actually be harmful, as it washes away the beneficial ones that your body needs.
He'll be very reassuring when you feel the need to constantly check up on things. He won't judge you for it but instead he'll offer to check on it himself and reassure you that everything is okay.
It wouldn’t be new to him to avoid places that were crowded or super noisy. He would know where all the less crowded and quiet places are. At this point, he already had taken the time to understand your triggers and sources of anxiety. He just wanted to be well-informed so he can help you avoid these situations and provide the support and care you need.
If you were to experience an anxiety attack, he remains calm and patient and helps you try to breathe. Whenever you need to vent, he’s always there for you. He’ll let you curl up on his lap while you talk, gently stroking your hair. Although he’s quiet while you talk, you know he listens to every detail and he doesn’t want to interrupt you. After you finish sharing, he’ll offer advice or discuss the situation to help you work through it together.
Rafayel:
He knows that you were going through significant struggles because it often kept you doing certain things with him. There are times when the weight of your depression and anxiety feels so heavy that it drains your motivation, making your favorite hobbies or simply just doing anything seem out of reach. Sometimes the intensity of your OCD leads you to stay up, unable to rest because you repeatedly check things like the light switches, doors, windows, and everything else in the house.
OCD is a topic that Rafayel wouldn’t tease or be playful on with you. He notices the small things when you repeat patterns or prefer certain number sets. He’s very patient and understanding about this topic but anytime you feel as if your ocd ritual was messed up, he is quick to run to your side and reassure you that everything will be okay.
Rafayel has been in a dark place himself so he knows the signs when you’re struggling. Whether you’ve been through this over and over again, he’ll help you through this every single time. If you don't have the energy to take a shower or a bath, then he’ll simply carry you and wash you himself. He’ll join you and use your favorite bath bomb scents and make it a little fun by blowing bubbles at you. A smile would curl up on his lips when he sees you smiling again.
He wouldn’t force you to talk. He’ll do most of the talking and hopefully it takes your mind off anything you were anxious about. When you are ready to talk, he’ll praise you. It’s a big step forward in healing and he would be listening attentively to everything you say.
Rafayel would text you throughout the day and ask how you were feeling. He's always there at your beck and call. If you need anything, he already has it and he's on his way to you.
If you were out in public and you started to feel uneasy, he would lead you somewhere else. Rafayel would always be holding your hand for security and to make sure you were always right by his side. He doesn't mind wherever you both go, as long as he's with you. He makes sure that you two can go to places that aren't crowded or noisy but still enjoyable and fun for the both of you.
He’s very worried whenever you take medications. He knows that they can have some mean and nasty side effects and that’s the last thing he would want you to go through. He’ll always make sure to check up on you a couple hours later to see how you’re holding up.
Sylus:
It does not take him long to notice you were acting off. Nothing can get past this man and he doesn’t want you to feel like you have anything to hide from him. No matter what the issue is, he isn’t leaving your side and you’ll both work on the issue together. He doesn’t want you to go through anything alone.
When you feel empty and you simply want to sink into your bed and lay there motionless because everything in the world was just too much, Sylus will not hesitate to take action. He’ll make sure you're eating nutritious meals by calling his private chefs or he’ll make them himself. He’ll sit right beside you and watch you take enough bites or he’ll spoon feed it to you himself. Sylus would make sure to tell you that you were doing so well even if the bites were big or small. After you are done eating, he’ll make sure that you take all your meds and check up on you if any of the side effects arise.
He’ll be right by your side at any doctor's appointments. He’ll carry you to the bathroom himself or he’ll use his evol to help wash, dry, and dress you up. Sylus would encourage you as well to go on walks with him so your body is still moving and so you can get some fresh air. He does all of this because he loves you and he doesn’t want you to lose any of the progress you made. He knows your capabilities and he knows you will get through this. He’ll be right by your side the entire time.
When he notices that your OCD rituals are becoming overwhelming, he doesn't hesitate to step in to help. He finds engaging activities for the both of you to do so it steers your focus away from the obsessive thoughts. Understanding how OCD can distort your perceptions, he uses distractions as a way to gently pull you out of that obsessive cycle.
Sylus would let you know that he’s accessible. Whenever you need him, feel free to call him any time and he’ll drop anything and come by to help you.
Don't even bother brushing off any of your issues. Anything that bothers you, he's always there to listen and help you. He’s a great listener and he never judges you for any problems you had and the reason behind your behavior. His shoulder is for you to lean on, cry on, laugh on, and hold on, etc. He’s understanding and wants you to be happy again.
When he’s away, he will have food delivered to you. He’ll make sure you eat and that you take your meds right after by calling or texting to remind you. Or he’ll just send Mephisto to you. He’ll caw/squawk repeatedly until you finish your meals.
#xavier x reader#xavier x you#xavier x y/n#zayne x reader#zayne x you#zayne x y/n#rafayel x reader#rafayel x you#rafayel x y/n#sylus x reader#sylus x you#sylus x y/n#xavier love and deepspace#zayne love and deepspace#rafayel love and deepspace#sylus love and deepspace#xavier lads#zayne lads#rafayel lads#sylus lads#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace fic#love and deepspace scenarios#lads x you#lads x reader
627 notes
·
View notes
Note
I just read completely unraveled and it was SO GOOD. I love the dominant yet gentle nick!! Could you write a part 2 about the aftercare that followed? Thank You!!!!🎀🎀
the weight of warmth ☁️
completely unraveled sequel
summary: see the request above — another sickening anon request 🙂↕️
type: pleasure dom! nicholas x sub! female reader
tags/warnings: 18+, established relationship, cockwarming, showering together, clit stimulation
author’s note: this was fun to work on, i feel like it kinda dragged a little but i hope yall like it!!!
tag list: @blackynsupremacy , @hoffmansgirl , @essentialwriter , @lalavenderficrecs , @nicholaschavezslut69 , @titsout4nicholas
☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
The air in the room was thick with the lingering heat of everything that had just happened. The soft buzz of the city muffled through the window. The low lights of the city streaked across the bed in long, hazy ribbons. Your body still trembled, your muscles lax and spent, every nerve in your body still singing in the aftershocks of your orgasm.
Nicholas didn’t move right away. His weight on top of you felt, not restrictive, but comforting and grounding you. Keeping you safe in a way words could never could. His head, nestled in the crook of your neck, and for a moment, you both stayed like that, your hands drifting slowly up and down his back, tracing the ridges of his spine with featherlight touches.
You thought for a moment he fell asleep, his body seemed so content and hummed of being utterly spent. “You okay, baby?” he asked softly, his voice husky and raw. His lips moved against your collarbone as he spoke, his words vibrating through you.
You nodded, still catching your breath. “Mhm, I just need a second,” you murmured your voice barely more than a whisper, a hint of laughter in your voice.
He shifted, slowly propping himself up on his elbows, gazing down at you with those warm, chocolate eyes. His brows furrowed slightly with concern as he searched your face, his hand coming up to push a strand of damp hair away from your forehead. “Too much?” he asked, his eyes scanning you for any sign of discomfort.
It was almost endearing, the way Nicholas cared so deeply about your safety and well-being whenever you were together like this. No matter how many times you’d told him you were fine, he’d still ask, still check, his worry so genuine it made your heart ache in the best way. Sometimes, he didn’t even catch when you were joking, his focus so intent on making sure you felt good. It’s what made moments like this feel so much more than just physical—it was care, it was love.
“No,” you said quickly to reassure him, reaching up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over the chisle of his cheekbone. “It’s perfect, Nick. Thank you.”
His face softened at that, his lips curving into a small, tender smile. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, letting it linger for a moment longer than usual. Then, with slow, deliberate care, he pulled out of you, his breath catching at the loss of contact. You winced slightly at the sensation, but he’s already moving, already tending to you.
“I’ll be back,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple before slipping off the bed. You watched him as he walked to the bathroom, his broad back glistening with sweat, his muscles shifting with every step. He disappeared for a moment, and you heard the sound of running water.
When he returned, he made his way to the closet, his movements unhurried but purposeful. He pulled out a pair of black Nike briefs for himself, his fingers brushing over the fabric as if making sure it’s just right. Then, with the same level of care, he grabbed one of his oversized t-shirts for you—one of the ones you’d claimed long ago but he’d never asked for back.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he said softly, reaching out his hand for you to grab. His voice gentle and coaxing, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. You nodded, letting him pull you up with a gentlessness and ease only he could master.
He couldn’t help himself. Before he could lead you to the shower, he kissed you—deep and slow. His hands slid down your sides, fingers pressing into the soft curves of your hips as he pulled you closer. Flesh to flesh, your skin stuck to his, the shared heat of your bodies mingling with the damp sheen of sweat still clinging to you both. The kiss deepened, hungry but not rushed, a slow, consuming pull that left you breathless.
His grip on you was firm but never harsh, a steady claim of presence and control. It’s what you craved most—to feel his certainty, the unwavering way he guided you into surrender. You’d let him take you apart as many times as he wanted, just to feel this closeness, this absolute devotion. Every tilt of his head, every brush of his tongue against yours felt like a vow.
You were addicted to being controlled by Nicholas, to the way he knew your body so completely it felt like he’d mapped it out in his mind. The way he read every shift of your breath, every shiver, every gasp—like a conductor leading an orchestra of your pleasure. He’d never failed to pull every ounce of it from you, and it’s why you’d follow him anywhere.
But Nicholas? Nicholas was addicted to you. To the way your skin felt under his hands, the way your breath hitched when he touched a spot he’d memorized long ago. Your smell, your taste—the intoxicating combination of you lingered on his tongue long after you’d gone still. It’s the way you called out his name at the peak of your orgasm, his name sharp and desperate on your lips, like only he could bring you to that place. Because he could. And he knew it.
His lips parted from yours slowly, leaving your lips wet and swollen from the intensity of it all. His eyes stayed locked on yours, his gaze heavy with desire and pride. One of his hands slid up to cup your chin, his thumb resting just beneath your bottom lip, tilting your face up so you’d look at him.
“I could have you again if I wanted,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, a slow drawl of confidence and possession. His eyes roamed over your face, taking in the way your lips parted in anticipation. “You’d like that, huh?”
You nodded, a shy but eager nod, biting your bottom lip as your eyes flickered to his mouth. You’d let him have you a thousand times if he asked. You’d gladly let him unravel you until the sun peeked through the blinds, until your legs gave out beneath you.
He watched you for a moment longer, his gaze filled with unspoken promises. Then, slowly, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, soft and grounding, as if sealing the moment into permanence. “Patience, though,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s save it.”
————
Nicholas slid back the glass door to the shower, steam fogging up every surface in the bathroom. He stuck his hand out to test the water, knowing you liked it hot—scorching as he often joked. Satisfied, he turned back to you, extending a hand with a soft, knowing smile.
“Come on, baby,” he said gently, his voice a low, soothing hum. You slipped your hand into his, letting him guide you into the warmth of the shower. The water poured down in steady streams, washing away the stickiness from your skin. You sighed as the heat seeped into your muscles, easing the tension you hadn’t realized was still there.
Nicholas stepped in, in front of you, the water cascading down his broad shoulders and chest, trailing along the hard planes of his body. He stood there for a moment, letting it soak him fully before his eyes met yours. His gaze was soft but grounding—serious in a way that made you feel seen, cherished.
“Turn around for me,” he murmured, his hands already on your waist, guiding you gently. You obeyed, the warmth of the water flowing down your back as he reached for the body wash. The familiar click of the bottle’s cap echoed through the space. He lathered up his hands, his touch firm but gentle as he smoothed the suds over your shoulders, down your back, and along the curve of your spine.
His hands moved with care, slow and deliberate. Each stroke of his palms felt like a silent reminder of his devotion. The soft slip of the lather against your skin sent shivers down your spine, but his hands were steady, grounding you in his presence. He worked his way down to your lower back, his thumbs pressing in small circles that made you sigh in contentment.
“Turn back around,” he said softly, and you did, facing him once more. He reached for the showerhead, angling it toward you. The warm spray cascaded over you, rinsing away the soap in smooth rivulets. You glanced up at him, watching the way the water streamed down his face, over his sharp jawline, and along the broad expanse of his chest. The sight made something flutter low in your stomach.
“Your turn,” he said, a small grin tugging at his lips as he handed you the body wash.
You squeezed some of the body wash into your hands, rubbing them together until a rich lather formed. Your palms pressed against his chest, the suds building in thick, frothy swirls that made every curve of muscle stand out beneath your fingers. His eyes stayed on you, half-lidded but watchful, his lips parting slightly as he exhaled a soft breath.
Your hands worked slowly, savoring the feel of him under your fingertips. You followed the curve of his pecs, the firm ridges of his abs, every inch of him slick and soapy. You couldn't help yourself. As you rinsed him off, you leaned forward, pressing soft kisses along his chest and shoulders. Your lips trailed over his skin, gentle and unhurried, the warmth of him mingling with the heat of the shower.
Nicholas’s hands found your waist again, steady and grounding. He turned you around slowly, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, “Let me get your back.” He reached for the body wash again, working it into a lather before smoothing it down your spine, his fingers firm but soothing. The sensation made you sigh, leaning into him, letting him hold you up.
When he finished rinsing you off, he pulled you in close, chest to back, his arms wrapping around you. His lips found your shoulder, soft kisses peppered along your skin. The only sound was the steady patter of water hitting the floor, mingled with the soft, wet smacks of his lips against you. Every now and then, a quiet moan escaped you, barely loud enough to be heard over the shower, but he heard it. He always did.
His hands felt so large on your frame, they wrapped around your hips again. But instead of staying on your hips, he let one hand travel across your thig until he found your womanhood. You ached for him, the second he touched your throbbing bud, you let out a breathy moan. He held you up again, knowing you’d be weak.
You moaned on and on, crying out Nicholas’ name as your body thrashed in his arms. Your threw your head back into his chest, still whimpering out.
“I know baby, I know,” Nichola cooed to you, “Let it out”.
You obeyed, the pressure in your body built to it’s peak. Nicholas was so incredibly skilled at getting you there, he just understood it. Where to rub, how fast to go, what to say, where to kiss. It’s like he was in your life solely to unlock these parts of you.
As you came down from your unraveling, Nicholas held you, continuing to kiss on your back but he could also feel your knees getting weak. “Oh my poor girl,” Nicholas turned off the water with one hand still holding you up with the other.
He was his concern creeping in again, he rushed to get you in a towel and out of the bathroom so you can go sit on the bed. You sat on th edge of the bed, wrapped in a plush black towel. Nicholas stood in front of you, “I’ll be back,” his demeaner was still calm but you knew was buzzing with a hint of worry inside for you, you were always his priority.
You just finished getting dressed when he returned to the bedroom with his hands full of different things; random serums and moisterizers for your skincare, an ice roller for your face because he knew you liked the sensation switch after a hot shower, your pink freshly filled hyrdroflask, a Frost Blue Artic Gatorade and a few random snacks.
You couldnt help but let out a small laugh, the contrast of this man who a few hours ago had cumming so hard you almost cried and now he was this frantic overprotective boyfriend who couldn’t stand the thought of you not be cared for.
He chuckled back, “What? I wanted to make sure you didnt have to get up for anything else”, he said setting everything down on the bedside table on your side.
His face was near your’s as he dipped down to arrange the items and you stopped him to give him a kiss. It was quick but it had weight to it, you were so appreciative of him. When he settled into his side of the bed, you both sat with your backs on the headboard. He pulled your legs onto his and rubbed yout thighs while the TV droned on the background. You sipped your water from cup and he grabbed your other hand placed soft kisses on it.
It was quiet again, things were light and soft. You love him and he loves you.
#lavender baby#nicholas chavez#nicholas alexander chavez#nicholas chavez smut#nicholas chavez fanfiction#nicholas chavez fic#nicholas chavez x reader#nicholas chavez x y/n#nicholas chavez x female reader
384 notes
·
View notes
Text
boy failures for u - i. yoichi, s. nagi, s. ryusei, b. meguru
summary; in which some boys just love you so much, they simply can't function
genre/extra tags; scenarios, fluff, comedy, projecting my love for dog energy boys, they're so pathetic /pos, bachira is clumsy, ryusei is an embarrassingly horny dude (can confirm, he gets no bitches, absolutely ZERO play!!), nagi... is perfect as he is, yoichi,,,, is just socially awkward around people he has a crush on
[gender neutral reader]
a/n; look at me being fancy this one panel banner, slay. tbh i couldn't think of a good three photos to use for it so i tried this which is kind of nice. anyways i had a sudden thought hit me and it must be done. and what better anime to write for than the one where everyone has unexplainable gay tension between each other. i swear im as caught up as possible i think and i swear the gay tension is like,, crazy.
isagi yoichi is endearing. he's so bad at being normal around you. his face flushed a cute red, and his words barely managing to leave his mouth as you talk to him so sweetly. he doesn't know how to handle a crush. and it's so cute to tease him because he just doesn't know how to respond properly.
the times where he does manage to gain enough confidence to talk a conversation with you, he's never taking the lead in any of them. he's talking [somewhat] normally to you, answering your questions and [attempting] to reply to your thoughts and responses. of course, just don't flirt with him too hard. there's like a 50 percent chance he will understand it or not.
he can't even admire you correctly. when he attempts to give you a compliment, he's saying all the wrong words and apologizing profusely like he offended your entire bloodline. he's so utterly enchanted by you, he wonders if you're an angel sent just for him.
"you're so nice, y/n." "huh?" "i-i mean you're really cute! wait- i didn't mean that! fuck- not that i don't think you look cute! you're really a great person, you know?! sorry! i'm just gonna go back to practice...!"
nagi seishiro is so lazy that you can't help but watch over him. you understand why reo adores him (a little too much). he's a boy with pretty privilege and talent. he talks to you with such honesty that he unintentionally flirts with you. he doesn't know a lot of things well, but even he's had his fair share with understanding liking people (but that's only with the random dating sims he's tried).
when he manages to get on his feet, whether it's for a soccer match or you, he's stuck by you like a cute koala. he whines about everything being "too much of a hassle." but he finds himself walking around looking for you, no matter how far you are. he whines to you about how he had to get up to find you, and he's cuddling close to you. his mouth turned into his signature X shape as he pouts at you, annoyed that you just had to be away from him for more than a minute.
he tries so hard to be around you but at the cost of his laziness, he mutters to you about how much easier it would be if you just stay with him all the time like his purple-haired companion or his cactus pet. he fell for you first, but he makes it so easy for you to fall harder.
"why do you always have to do stuff?" "it's my job, sei." "you should just stay with me all the time. you take care of me so well."
shidou ryuusei is annoyingly desperate for you. if isagi was endearing, shidou was insolent. he speaks before he thinks. he has no shame in chasing after you. it's quite a feat that you haven't even shooed him away as much as sae has. you sort of find a friend in sae because of that. he always rolls his eyes when you mention him. he wonders why you keep being around the blonde jock, and you tell him, "who doesn't love a pathetic man?"
when he talks to you, he just can't read a room with you in it. he's the type of guy to say "this shot is for you." and it hits the goal post and then to his face. of course he'd never actually miss in a real match but i can guarantee that it would happen during a practice match. he unintentionally humiliates himself every time he tries to be cool. if sae is there, it's even worse. he's trying to bump up the flirting up to a 200 and failing miserably to woo either of you.
he's like those tweets where it's like, "how did i pull them? easy. i just went, PLEASEPLEAPLSEPWPLEAPLELA-". without fail, he basically tries to re-enact that but he doesn't even pull you because you'd much rather wait for him to actually be a decent man and grow the rest of his brain. though it doesn't seem he'll learn his lesson anytime soon.
"did i ever tell you how hot you look right now?" "yes. you have. multiple times. today." "please go out with me." "no."
bachira meguru is confusing. he's clingy, blunt, teasing, a little stupid but has the spirit, and an absolute cutie. he's passionate about what he likes. and surprise, surprise, he likes you. he's an infodumper but you don't mind at all. but sometimes those talks take a hard left into just telling you how much he likes you. you better hope you're strong because he will be jumping on you for a hug.
when he's just buzzing with excitement, he can't help but scramble by your side to cling onto you in any way that you will allow him to. he's not as boy failure as the others on this list because even when he fails to capture your heart, he's still succeeding in his book. he loves when you give him any sliver of attention. that's probably his thing as a boy failure. he is a hyper and needy dog who's too big to cuddle with but doesn't care. and you can't say no because then they just stare at you with those big eyes until you cave.
he's the type of guy to be confused when people ask if you're dating him and you say no. "what do you mean we're not dating? i thought this was the dating." he's never actually confessed, but he considers his "s-tier affection" to be confession enough. but he's kind of coward whether he realizes it or not. he's scared to actually say that he wants to be yours, but that's like an angsty story for another time, SO SHUT.
"what if we kissed? like right now?" "but we're not dating, meguru." "we're not? we should." "i'll think about it." "no think! just do!"
#blue lock x reader#blue lock nagi#blue lock#blue lock nagi x reader#blue lock bachira#blue lock bachira x reader#bachira x reader#bllk x reader#bllk nagi#bllk isagi#bllk shidou#shidou ryuusei x reader#ryusei shidou x reader#blue lock shidou#nagi x reader#nagi seishiro#isagi yoichi#isagi x reader#blue lock isagi#bachira meguru#bllk bachira
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
persistent perstering- c.leclerc
Day 13 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist
summary: Ferrari drivers are persistent. You’re not looking for love. Too bad he is.
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ
You liked your job. Ferrari was a good place to work. You’d befriended many of your colleagues, you enjoyed the travel, and though your work was challenging, you felt good. You were the assistant strategist who, granted, usually had better strategies than your boss, but you bite your tongue to keep his massive ego alive. If you could slap him in his dumb fucking face, you would. You liked being in the garage, well, you would if it weren’t for one thing.
Charles LeClerc.
Ferrari’s number one, Prince of Monaco, il Predestinato, King of Monza, the Ferrari driver.
He was a pain in the ass. He followed you around like a love-sick puppy, he hung on every word you said, laughed too hard at all your jokes, talked too much, and he wasn’t exactly your type.
Well, no one at that moment was. You’d imposed an iron-clad dating ban on yourself when your last relationship ended badly. You weren’t interested in the Monaco dating scene, and even if you were, you wouldn’t start up again with Charles LeClerc.
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ
“Morning!” You called out to Carlos. The humid air made every piece of clothing you owned too warm, so you were in a vintage Ferrari cropped-tank. You loved your team, even before working there. Behind Carlos, was Charles, not that you knew that. Carlos smiled, coming over to you.
“How are you doing?” He asked with a smile.
“Fucking hot,” you chuckled. He nodded. “It's mad weather.”
“I know what you mean,” he nodded. “Charles’ here could barely stand getting out of bed.”
Charles stepped out from behind him with a bright smile. You smiled back politely, and somehow didn’t notice the way his jaw dropped when he saw you.
“Ready for tonight?” you asked them both.
“Ready,” Carlos nodded. “And hoping that you’re doing my strategy.”
You chuckled and followed him into the paddock, Charles tagging behind you both. “Sadly no, but I will be on stand-by for drinks afterwards, first round on me if things go wrong?”
“First round on me if things go right,” Carlos nodded.
“Well, good luck today,” you smiled. “Can’t wait for the sprint!”
“Thank you,” Carlos smiled and left to go to his side of the garage.
“Feeling ready for today?” you asked Charles, trying to be polite.
He nodded. “How bad can it be?”
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ
Very, very bad. Extremely bad. Awful.
Sprint went like this;
Lap 2: Charles Engine failure into the pits for a 20 second stop.
Lap 8: Carlos crashes with Norris
Lap 16: Charles into the barriers.
Double DNF with the feature race tomorrow and quali tonight? Yeah, you’d all be getting fined for staying late.
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ
You sat at your desk, looking over the strategy for tomorrow, disheartened at your prospects. Quali had ended 2 hours ago and Charles and Carlos were starting at the bottom of the grid, and it was your job to get them back up into at least the top 10, if not the top 5. Finally, the ball was in your hands in terms of strategy and no matter what, they were going to listen to your calls. The team had all left 30 minutes ago, the cars were fixed with no upgrades and some understeer, but they were drivable.
“Heading home soon?” Charles’ voice rang out through the empty garage.
“Nope,” you sighed.
“You’ll work yourself to death,” he sighed. “What are you looking at?”
“Strategy is in my hands tomorrow,” you blurted out. “And I’m fucking freaking out,” You let out a sad chuckle as you felt all of the pressure on your shoulders get heavier and heavier. “I don’t know what to do now. Austin is always a fucking ordeal, and with teh Sprint and you tow trashing the cars we’re so fucked, and they’re finally giving me the chance I’ve been asking for and if I fuck it up they’ll never promote me, even though they know it’s less than ideal circumstances.”
You took a deep breath as your eyes watered. He placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “You can cry.”
You groaned, covering your face. “I don’t want to cry.”
He chuckled softly. “I think you might need to.”
You shook your head, taking deep breaths and wiping your eyes. “No, I-I’m alright.”
Your breathing quickened. Your heart raced. Your mind clouded. Your ears rang.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
This couldn’t be happening, not in front of your colleague, not in your workplace not-
And then his lips were on yours? His hands in your hair as you sat there stoic and frozen with anxiety, he fucking kissed you.
WHAT A CUNT.
You hastily pushed him off and gathered your things, hoping he would just leave you alone. He rushed out apology after apology until you finally turned to him and screamed. “Leave me the fuck alone Charles! Not everyone is in love with you, alright? I’m Carlos’ friend, not yours! I tolerate you, because I fucking have to, because it’s my job, and because I’m a fucking professional! If you cannot extend those same respectful luxuries, don’t come near me Charles. Just leave me alone!”
He stood there, shocked, as you stormed off to your hotel room.
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ
You walked into the paddock the next morning with your head held high and a plan for the strategy. You knew what you were doing, and the only time you’d have to see Charles today would be on your screen in a car driving more than 300 kilometres an hour. Perfect.
When you got to your desk, there was a small note on it with a bouquet of your favourite flowers.
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ
Dear Y/n,
I am so sorry about my behaviour last night, it was unacceptable. I panicked and I wasn’t sure what to do, but I know now that was not the way to go about it. I am so incredibly sorry, and I promise to leave you be from now on. Sorry again, Charles.
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ
A part of you felt bad, another didn’t. I mean, working with F1 drivers, you were used to tall egos on shorter men, with very little to back them up other than their money. You were sick of it, and to be honest, Charles just got the brunt of your anger because he was close to you, and he had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
And I mean, it was a pretty good kiss. But no, he’s a dickhead, right?
You huffed at your own stupidity. No way you were letting a man get you this confused about what you wanted. You didn’t want…? You wanted…? Fuck, what did you want?
“Hi,” Charles’ sheepish voice came from beside you. You whipped your head around to meet his eyes. “I just wanted to apologise in person as well. I am truly very sorry about last night, I put my own feelings above yours and took advantage, and I am deeply ashamed. I promise-”
And then your lips were on his?
How the tables turn.
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ
navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)
fic-tober masterlist
taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi
#f1 fluff#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#formula 1 x you#formula one imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#charles leclerc imagine#f1 smau#f1 social media au#formula one#formula one x reader#formula 1#formula racing#ferrari#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x female oc
378 notes
·
View notes
Text
ᯓ★⋆˚𝙿𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚊𝚡𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜⋆。˚ ⁀➷
(Peter Maximoff x fem!reader)
tags: sfw and nsfw.
warnings: none.
character count: 7k.
this was a request!
ᯓ★⋆𝚂𝙵𝚆⋆。⁀➷
He LOVES playing games with you.
Peter was often bored, being locked in his mother’s basement led to doing the same things over and over again. This is why he loved playing games with you, no matter if they were board games or card ones, he was utterly fond of the idea of games ending in many different ways and sometimes taking different turns, never knowing if a game could last minutes or hours. He would throw game nights with candies and junk food. He really liked playing Cluedo, especially roleplaying the whole thing, he would get SO into the character, many times taking it personally when he was accused of being the murderer, always doing accents and creating a whole backstory (even if not needed). He believed it was “funnier” this way…but really, he was just a dork by nature. He enjoyed Monopoly too, although getting into the character in this game would often lead to him getting SO mad when things started to go bad for him. He claimed he was “the best gamer of all times” but in reality was actually pretty bad, especially with strategy games since he tended to act impulsively without logic. Many times you had to let him win to avoid cocky tantrums and just getting his ego hurt.
He is constantly spoiling you with gifts.
His main goal in life was owning the "Twinkie" company being the best boyfriend you could ever ask for. So whatever you desired, he gave you.
“Look how cute this is Pet-” You started while pointing at the picture of what you wanted, and before you knew it, Peter left your room at the highest of speeds just to come back in the blink of an eye with the thing you were just talking about in his hands.
“Gotcha.” He winked with a cute smirk.
“Peter! You didn’t have to. You probably spent so much for this…” You said, feeling guilty.
“Who said I paid for it?”
He takes you anywhere you want.
You mentioned wanting to go to the beach? He took you there in no time, not even letting you put your swimsuit on.
You dreamed of going to Paris? Sweep. Two seconds and you were taking a picture under the Tour Eiffel while he was holding a baguette and had a fake mustache on.
In the little time you started dating him, you already visited more places than you did in your entire life, and your bedroom was full of polaroids of you two around the world. This counts for concerts and other things too. He’s basically a free VIP pass.
He always matches your mood.
If you wanted to go to the cinema and watch a movie, he would sneak you two in the theater, stealing popcorn and all types of soda.
If you wanted to party hard and just forget about everything for a night, he would throw the BIGGEST party in the x-men’s mansion, just for you.
If you wanted to stay home and relax, he would grab a comfy blanket and a few snacks, cuddling up against you. Either spooning you or being spooned.
He hypes you up no matter what, he’s your biggest fan.
You were out shopping with Peter, so you took the chance to try some dresses on. You were in the changing room, looking at your body in the mirror. Many thoughts were flowing in your head, you didn’t know if you liked or hated it. Peter slightly peeked from the curtain.
“Babe are ya don- HOLY SHIT!” His eyes widened at the sight of you.
“Do you like it?” You asked while still looking in the mirror.
“Like it? Ya asking me if I- if I like it?! Are ya out of yer mind?! I dont like it! I love it!” He opened wide the whole curtain.
“Mh…I don’t know if this really fits m-” You were cut off by Peter suddenly grabbing your shoulders.
“Fits you?! FITS YA?! Babe.Ya need to get this right now. It was made for you- Holy shit! It looks like it was tailored to you!” He grinned widely.
“i don’t kno-Peter!” You exclaimed as he picked you up in his arms.
“YER STUNNING. Gorgeous! Breathtaking! Damn! Yer really my girl? I’m the luckiest bastard in the world!” He carried you in his arms out of the changing room.
“SHE’S MY GIRLFRIEND! HEY YOU! YES! SHE’S MY GIRLFRIEND! I’M THE LUCKIEST BASTARD IN THE WORLD! WHOOOOO!” He shouted excitedly to the whole store while you covered your burning cheeks and begged him to stop.
He likes watching you put on your makeup, occasionally attempting to put it on you, too.
His tongue poked out of his mouth as he tried to blend the foundation on your skin.
“Why’s this taking so long?!” He huffed.
“Peter, that’s an eyeshadow brush.”
“Oh.”
ᯓ★⋆˚𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆⋆。˚ ⁀➷
He’s horny 24/7.
Because of his speedster genes everything his body did was faster than normal. It was sooo easy to get him hard. You could’ve been either provoking him or doing nothing.
You were laying on the bed, your boyfriend spooning you from behind. You pressed your back against him, earning a groan from him. Thinking you accidentally hurt him, you turned to face him, just to find a visible grown bulge in his pants.
“I barely touched you…” You teased.
“S’the speedster genes…” He whined.
He’s such a switch.
You were sitting between his legs, your back pressed against his chest. His fingers slipping in and out of your entrance with unholy sounds.
“Mh…Just like that, babe…takin’ it so well…” He purred in your ear, causing loud moans to slip out of you. He kept speeding his fingers more and more, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Not wanting to finish alone, you suddenly changed positions, straddling him and stroking his length from his pants.
“A-ah…please babe…” He was already a subby mess under you, whining and begging you for more.
He’s open to all types of sex with you.
Fast? His name is quickie for a reason, his body will be blurred by how fast he will be.
Slow? Mhh…It will be torture for him but, sure, anything to pleasure you.
Loving? He could be hugging you from behind, gently thrusting in you and whispering sweet words and moans in your ear.
Rough? Absolutely. He’ll have you screaming his name as loud as possible. Oh, and prepare for a loooong night, the speedster genes help a lot with his sex drive.
No toys!
One thing he will never accept is you using sex toys. Why on earth would you use a miserable piece of plastic to please yourself when you have him?
He can be a vibrator, a dildo…everything! And a good one too. Whenever you need to feel good, just give him a call! He will drop everything just to have fun with you. Don’t tell Professor X that.
Quickies in public are more common than you think.
With him being always horny, he often found himself staring at you for longer than usual, which sent heat waves straight to his core, even in public.
“Babe…” He started with whispering your name in your ear, his body pressing against yours from behind.
“I need you…” He whined, subtly rubbing his hard-on against your ass. You questioned him, reminding him that you were in public.
He quickly brought you inside a public bathroom. His hands desperately grabbing your body.
“Please…I’ll be quick…” He groaned against your neck, sucking the skin gently. As soon as you agreed, you found yourself pressed up against a wall and his clothes immediately coming off.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
taglist: @cxndiedvi0lets @angeldollw @marchsfreakshow @dangeroustaintedflawed @yandereunsolved @newwavesylviaplath @happy74827 @evpeters87 @dont-look-behind
a/n: hiiii!!! my first headcanonssss...tried to put more dorky canon peter. hope you like them!!🩶🩶
all rights reserved!!
#peter maximoff#peter maximoff x reader#x men#x men apocalypse#quicksilver#evan peters#american horror story#tate langdon#ahs fandom#ahs murder house#kyle spencer#violet harmon#james patrick march#kai anderson#taissa farmiga#ahs hotel#ahs asylum#ahs coven
817 notes
·
View notes